


Princes Three: In the Shadows of Mirkwood

by Minuial_Nuwing



Series: Princes Three [2]
Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-21
Updated: 2004-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-09 01:47:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 47,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minuial_Nuwing/pseuds/Minuial_Nuwing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Part Two of the Princes Three arc, which focuses on the evolving relationship between Legolas of Mirkwood and Elladan and Elrohir, the twin sons of Elrond.</p><p>Imladris' favorite triad descends on Mirkwood...and Thranduil.  Family disputes, unfriendly wildlife, and a differing culture threaten the newly forming bond between Legolas and the twins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Explicit twincest
> 
> Beta: Allie &amp; Company
> 
> A/N: Italics indicate mindspeak or thoughts, when not used for simple emphasis.
> 
> A/N 2: In its original format, this story was listed as '18 chapters + Interludes,' but the archive would not allow me to post the Interludes without chapter numbers.

_~The Eaves of Mirkwood 2150 III~_

Legolas sighed heavily and pushed back his hood, the failing light setting his pale gold hair ablaze. The cold rain had finally ended, but not before soaking elves and horses, causing them all to chill miserably in the fading warmth of the autumn sun. "And it will only be worse under the canopy," he muttered, looking with irritation at the first ranks of Mirkwood’s giant trees.

The party of six - Legolas and his guard - had been nearly a moon on the trip from Imladris, and there likely remained two days of travel through the forest ere they reached Thranduil’s realm. Delayed by unexpected rain and mudslides in the Misty Mountains, as well as the occasional thug, they were tired, sore, and ill-humored.

"Aye, it will be," Tiriadon replied, smiling ruefully. "Damp, chill and dark, as always. Why do elves live in the woods, anyway?"

Chuckling, Legolas clapped his companion on the shoulder affectionately. "I am not at all sure, just now, Tiri. It seems a dank place, indeed, after such a rain. But we must bear it, to get back to the Halls." Clucking to his horse, Legolas said, "Come on, ‘Faer. Take us home, my friend."

Pausing to nuzzle his master’s knee affectionately, the spirited dark bay stallion tossed his head, then set off confidently through the closely packed trees. Picking his way, first right, then left, Ornfaer soon found the path he was seeking. Snorting loudly, he waited for the others to regroup, then headed down the uneven trail at a fast pace.

As the small band of elves moved quickly through the dim forest, Legolas spoke softly to his mount and Ornfaer slowed, allowing the guard captain to come alongside. "I think we should stop at the first clearing, Tiri," Legolas said thoughtfully. "We can not possibly make the second this day and it would be foolhardy to rest among the trees, even with a watchman, this far from the Halls. In the clearing we can build a fire, at any rate."

"Aye, and thus be able to dry out," Tiriadon agreed with a grin. "There is also a small rain pool, which is surely full after such a storm as just passed, so there will be water for the horses. You are wise, for all your youth."

Legolas snickered. "Of course, old one. And the fact that your birth was ten years before mine makes your wisdom much deeper?"

His moss-green eyes sparkling, Tiriadon replied, "Aye, it does. If you will let me pass, híren, I will use my greater experience to secure the clearing."

Checking Ornfaer slightly to allow Tiriadon’s fiery chesnut mare to move ahead, the prince found himself thankful, not for the first time, for the devotion he enjoyed from his guards. Assigned to him permanently, they were companions, as well as protectors. They had all killed for him many times over, and he had no doubt they would willingly die in his service.

And, more importantly at this moment, he trusted them implicitly with his secrets. Though they wore the colors of Mirkwood, their loyalty - in any situation short of an armed revolt, at any rate - was to Legolas, rather than Thranduil. As they had all been at least distant witnesses to his changing relationship with the Peredhil twins, the promise of their discretion was reassuring, indeed.

Turning suddenly through a nearly hidden opening, Tiriadon entered the clearing, followed closely by a second guard. They quickly scanned the open area for any obvious threat. Finding none, the captain slid thankfully from his mount. "We must get a fire going as soon as may be," he instructed, quickly assigning the soldiers their tasks. "There is little time to spare before sunset, and we need the warmth to dry us."

Helping his captain relieve the horses of their burdens, then feed and water the exhausted animals, Legolas viewed the trees thoughtfully. His forest-honed senses troubled, he turned to his companion. "I do not like this, Tiri. Though I see no spider-sign, it is strangely quiet. There is no birdsong, no movement of small creatures." Frowning, the prince repeated slowly, "I do not like it."

Looking intently at his lord, Tiriadon nodded. "Aye, it is very still. We will keep the fire going, and set a watch."

Moving back to the warmth of the blazing fire, the two elves gratefully stripped off wet clothing, slipping on dry garments from their packs. Digging through the food stores, which had become distressingly short due to the delays, Legolas handed a strip of dried meat and broken lembas to Tiriadon, taking the same for himself. "It will be good to get home, for fresh food, if nothing else," Legolas said with a smile.

Tiriadon laughed. "Aye, it will be nice to have fresh food," he agreed, grinning broadly, "among other things." Wincing at the flash of pain in his friend’s eyes, Tiriadon said, "I am sorry, Legolas. I did not think. Forgive me."

"There is naught to forgive," Legolas said stoutly, glancing at the mithril cuff that spiraled around his upper arm. "I did not beg your pardon in Imladris, though you were without your lover." After a moment, he looked curiously at his friend. "How do you do it, Tiri? How do you manage, being away from her?"

His lips curling slightly, the captain answered, "With my hand, híren, much like everyone else."

Good humor restored, Legolas chuckled. "That is not what I meant. I am well acquainted with that particular skill. I was speaking of the loneliness. How do you manage to keep up your spirits?"

Tiriadon was silent for a moment. "It is not really so bad. You have always done your extended traveling with Lord Elrond’s sons, so I am rarely gone for more than a week or two at a time. Usually it is a matter of days apart, not weeks or months." Grinning, he added, "Unless you drag me off on a fool errand such as this one."

Legolas smiled, but his intended jest died on his lips as one of the horses screamed in terror. Leaping up, he nocked an arrow, running to where the trembling animals stood. Unable to see any threat, even with his keen eyes, the prince stood very still. Over the scent of the horse’s fear, he became aware of another odor. Wild, rank, and unmistakable. "Not spiders, Tiri," he called softly. "Warg."

"In the forest?" the captain replied, quickly pulling the frightened horses into the center of the clearing, as near the fire as they would bear. "That is something new."

"Aye," Legolas said grimly, scanning the surrounding trees for the gleam of yellow eyes. "Something has drawn them from the mountains, I wager." Listening intently, he ordered, "Center yourselves, my friends. They are coming."

Backs to the fire, and to the nervous horses, the elves waited, weapons ready.

Suddenly, with a snarl and a flash like yellow flame, the first warg attacked, falling to the ground in mid-leap, Legolas’ arrow piercing its throat. Even as the first creature fell, others charged the ring of elves, snapping and slashing with teeth and claws. Though the outcome was never truly in doubt, Legolas sighed with relief when the last beast fell to Tiriadon’s knife. "It is a bit much, fending off a pack of wargs after a day in the mud and rain," the prince observed wryly, as they piled the carcasses to burn.

"Aye, it is," Tiriadon agreed, heaving the last warg onto the stacked remains. "Come, Legolas. Let us wash, and then take some rest. We will set two guards for what remains of the night."

Nodding, Legolas headed for the rain pool to clean himself of the dark warg blood. "It would be best to leave by dawn," he added, kneeling by the water. "Perhap we can make the Halls by moonrise tomorrow, if we have no further delays."

"Perhaps," Tiriadon replied cautiously, his red-gold braids swinging, as they scrubbed their bloodied hands and faces vigorously. "It will be quite a day’s ride, though."

"But not impossible, Tiri," Legolas countered, leading the way to the fire. Spreading his blanket, he dropped to the ground. "It will be better to ride hard tomorrow than spend another night such as this one."

"That is a fact," the captain said with a grin. "Get some rest, híren."

Legolas rolled himself in the blanket, and lay watching the dancing flames. Reverie did not come easily, and when the prince's eyes finally lost their focus, his waking dreams were filled, as always, with silver-grey eyes and black silk.

_   
_

****************

_   
_

_~Imladris 2150 III~_

"Elladan!" Glorfindel yelled in frustration. "Wait! Your arm needs seeing to, young one."

"It is alright," Elladan called back, never slowing his pace, "Ada will look at it." Grabbing his brother’s arm, he urged, "Come on, ‘Roh. Let us find him."

"Aye," Elrohir agreed, his haste as great as his twin’s. "Perhaps there has been word while we were gone." The two hurried down the corridors of the manor, oblivious to the effect their state of disrepair had on those they passed.

Elrond half rose from his chair when his sons burst into the library. Taking in their bedraggled appearance, as well as Elladan’s blood-stained sleeve, he immediately took charge. "Sit down, 'Adan," he insisted, pushing the elder twin into a chair. "Elrohir, fetch my healer’s box and some water, please."

Quickly ripping open the torn, bloodied sleeve and the makeshift binding, Elrond was relieved to see that the laceration was relatively clean, though it ran half-way from wrist to elbow. "It appears there was no poison on the blade," he said thankfully, carefully cleansing the wound. "It is deep though. It must be stitched, I fear."

"It is naught to worry over, Ada," Elladan insisted, wincing as the water flowed over his arm, stinging where it touched the torn flesh. "It was only a gang of brigands, and they will bother Imladris no longer. Have you any word from Thranduil?"

"Not yet," Elrond answered distractedly, dabbing at the wound with pain-dulling salve. Looking at his eldest son questioningly, he received a slight nod. "Hold his arm, Elrohir," Elrond said, quickly preparing his needle. Elladan turned his head, burying his face in his twin’s neck. The sting of the needle was followed by the burn of silk thread sliding through injured flesh, and both father and son breathed a sigh of relief when a clean bandage was secured in place.

"But it is just at a moon since they left. We should probably have news at any time," Elrond offered, as though there had been no break in their conversation. Pressing a kiss to the elder twin’s forehead, then to Elrohir’s, he laid a sympathetic hand on each dark head. "He is well. You must have faith."

"But it is not a full moon’s trip to Mirkwood, Ada," Elladan argued, carefully flexing his injured muscles. "They should have arrived several days ago, if all is well."

"Aye, they should have," Elrohir agreed. "Unless some difficulty has befallen them in the mountains."

"There is no profit in such talk," Elrond said kindly, but firmly. "We shall hear soon, I daresay, and, until then, we will expect all to be well. To do otherwise is to doubt Prince Legolas." Taking in the dirty and exhausted condition of his sons, he sighed. "To the bathing chamber, with both of you now, I think. Do not get that dressing wet, 'Adan. 'Rohir, you will need to help him bathe."

As identical ebony eyebrows arched skyward over barely suppressed grins, Elrohir replied, "I fully intend too, Ada. The return from a near three-week patrol requires a long soaking bath and much scrubbing. ‘Tis definitely better with two."

Elrond, having once had a twin of his own, was unable to squelch the images called forth by the teasing comment. Sighing, he shook his head ruefully at his younger son. "There are times, Elrohir, when it is well to limit yourself to a simple ‘Yes, Ada’. I do not require details." Handing the elf-knight a clean bandage roll, he said calmly, "If the dressing gets wet, it must be changed. I will expect you both for a late dinner."

_   
_

************

_   
_

Leaning back comfortably against his brother, water lapping around his chest, Elrohir sighed contentedly. Elladan chuckled, his good hand drawing idle circles on Elrohir’s stomach. "I agree, rohir nín. It is good to be home. And good to be clean."

"Aye, it is," Elrohir agreed, stilling the circling fingers with his own. "How fares your arm? Is the bandage wet?"

"Damp," Elladan admitted. "It will need changing, when we leave the tub. But the pain is much improved."

"That is well," Elrohir said, turning to sit astride his brother’s thighs. "Because I am not yet ready to leave the water." Pressing a lingering kiss to Elladan's mouth, he murmured, "How long has it been, el nín, since you last had me like this?"

"Too long," Elladan breathed, gathering his lover in a tight embrace. Hissing as their bodies slid together sensually in the warm water, Elladan twisted ebony-dark locks around one hand, gently forcing Elrohir’s head back, nuzzling and nipping his throat.

Unable to stifle a groan, Elrohir reached down and seized both slick shafts, stroking languidly with an open hand. "I want you now, tôren," he whispered, his breath tickling his brother's ear. "Have me, and make it last..."

Heedless of his injured arm, Elladan slid both hands down to cup Elrohir's buttocks, running teasing fingers over the puckered opening, before carefully slipping in one finger. His breath hitching, Elrohir pushed down on the searching hand. "Please, ‘Dan," he gasped, "_Please..."_

Swallowing hard, Elladan quickly pushed in another finger, stretching the tight muscle, before pulling his hand away.

Elrohir captured Elladan’s mouth in a fierce kiss and pressed tightly against his brother's chest, then pushed down, moaning as he slowly impaled himself. Breaking the kiss, Elrohir raised a hand to touch his twin’s face, their midnight-dark eyes locked in an intense gaze. They remained motionless as the familiar silvery sheen began to envelop their bodies, and each half of their soul reached eagerly for its mate. Thoughts merged and the warm feeling of wholeness began to flow, but still they remained unmoving, until finally the fusing was complete, and the sensation of both filling and being filled became too much to bear.

With a sobbing gasp Elrohir began to rock his hips, his straining erection rubbing against Elladan’s hard stomach. Moving as one, hands roamed, mouths nuzzled and nipped, growls and moans fell in a perfectly blended chorus, ending in a keening wail as silvery seed spilled from both in the same instant, a single name echoing in the fused soul.

The twins snuggled tightly together, clinging to the warmth as their soul reluctantly halved once more, their thoughts haunted by blue-green eyes and golden braids.

_   
_

*~*~*~*~*

_   
_

Tiriadon - guardian or watcher (Legolas' captain of the guard)   
Ornfaer - tree spirit (Legolas' horse)

híren - my lord  
el nín - my star  
rohir nín - my knight  
tôren - my brother

 


	2. Chapter 2

_~Mirkwood 2150 III~_

Legolas opened his eyes slowly, reluctant to wake from the first deep sleep he had enjoyed in many days. He and his guards had reached the Halls late the previous night. Exhausted, hungry and dirty, the prince had scarcely greeted his family before being ordered to eat, bathe, and sleep by a concerned Thranduil.

Stretching lazily, he sighed, remembering the last time he had slept in a bed. In Imladris. Legolas looked down at the curve of mithril that adorned his right upper arm, the etched gold and blue insets glowing in the sunlight that filtered into the concealed dwelling. Since leaving the hidden valley, he had rarely removed the cuff, save to bathe, and not always then. _'It is a part of Imladris I can keep with me always,’_ he mused, his fingers idly worrying the thin, flexible metal.

A soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. "Aye? Who is there?" the prince called, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

"It is Ada, Legolas. Are you waking?" a deep, musical voice answered. "I have breakfast with me."

Padding to the door uncovered, Legolas threw the bolt and hurried back to the bed. He pulled the sheet to his waist, then called "Come in, híren." As Thranduil entered the room, bearing a tray of fruits and breads, as well as a pot of tea, the prince’s smile widened. "Thank you, Ada. There was no need to bring breakfast to my chambers, though. I am quite fit enough for the hall."

Thranduil grinned, his emerald green eyes sparkling. "Allow a father to spoil his son, will you? I am glad to have you home, Legolas, and I wish to hear of Imladris. Dress yourself, before the tea cools."

Slipping into leggings and a light tunic, Legolas quickly braided his hair into a single golden plait, tying the end off carelessly with a strip of lacing. Turning to find Thranduil regarding him quizzically, he arched one golden eyebrow at his father in silent question.

"You look for all of Arda like a golden-haired Peredhel," the king chuckled, gathering his own waist-length golden hair in demonstration. "Eyebrow and all, I might add."

"I beg to differ, Ada," Legolas retorted, not knowing whether to be amused or dismayed. "The braid is a convenience, and I am wearing the colors of Mirkwood, am I not? And you arch your eyebrows, too."

"Aye, but not so expressively. That is a talent of Elrond and his whelps," Thranduil said, still smiling. "Come sit down and eat with me. How did you find Imladris? It was your first extended stay there since you were an elfling."

"It is a magical place, Ada," Legolas replied, his eyes shining. "Such a lot of waterfalls, and the trees...there are many types which do not grow here, and gardens, and..." with a sigh he ended, "I did not like to leave, much as I missed Mirkwood."

Looking thoughtfully at the cuff that spiraled around his son’s arm, the king smiled slightly. "Aye, it is a wondrous place and Elrond a gracious host. May I see your new bauble?"

Hesitating only briefly, Legolas slipped off the mithril cuff and handed it to his father. Studying the finely engraved oak leaves and the flawlessly set lapis lazuli, Thranduil nodded appreciatively. Though his own preference was for gold and emeralds, the woodland king could acknowledge artistry, whatever the form.

"This is the work of a master, indeed. Quite a gift, young one," he said, handing the cuff back to Legolas. "I recognize the symbolism, of course. ‘Tis a blending of the colors of Imladris and the token of Mirkwood, is it not?"

"It is," Legolas answered shortly, busying himself with breakfast. Stopping suddenly, he asked, "Ada, have you spoken with Lord Elrond since our arrival? To let him know we arrived safely?"

"Aye, I reached him for a moment this morning. He was most relieved to hear of your safe return and sent word that you are sorely missed," Thranduil replied, sipping his tea. "Tell me, how were Elladan and Elrohir? What did the three of you get up to, with nothing to hunt?"

"They are well, Ada," Legolas said with a smile. "We will be having a visit from them as soon as they can get away. I promised to show them around Mirkwood, as they have shown me Imladris. And we found much to do in the valley."

Looking at Legolas thoughtfully, the king asked no more questions, listening instead to the stories his son chose to tell.

When they had finished eating, and Thranduil prepared to go, Legolas laid a hand on his arm. "Ada, can you teach me to farspeak?" he asked hesitantly. "Is it an art I can learn, or a birth-gift?"

"It is an art, but one that does require some innate talent. I am not so accomplished as Elrond, but I manage, so it is reasonable to assume that you could learn, also, in time." His intense green gaze focused on his son, Thranduil continued gently, "Is there something you would like to tell me, Legolas?"

Drawing a deep breath, Legolas shook his head silently. Seeing the conflict in his son's eyes, Thranduil tried again. "Is there something you _should_ tell me? "

"Perhaps," Legolas sighed. "Probably. But let it be for the moment, Ada. Please."

"Aye, for the moment, young one," the king answered, squeezing his son's shoulder affectionately. "Your siblings are most anxious to see you. We will await you in the courtyard."

_   
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**********

_   
_

Descending the curving steps to the courtyard, Legolas looked around the woodland Hall, relieved to be home after the long journey. Contrary to popular rumor, the elves of Thranduil’s realm did not always live underground. Their stores were kept in well-lit caves, and they had secure caverns to flee to if need be, but their lives were lived as much as possible among the trees and plants of the great wood.

Guarded by the gated entrance that dove deep into the earth, as well as the skill of elven bow and knife, the inhabitants of Mirkwood had built a concealed, yet comfortable, refuge in the heart of the forest. Dwellings were to be found at all levels in the woodland settlement, from ground to canopy. The center of the Halls was a large courtyard, open to the sun and dotted with fountains. It was near one of these fountains that Legolas’ siblings waited with Thranduil.

As the prince reached the courtyard level, he was nearly knocked over by an exuberant armful of elfling. "Golas!" she shouted, ignoring all efforts to shush her. "You are home! "

Chuckling, Legolas picked up his youngest sibling, twirling her gently. "Aye, Galueth, I am, indeed," he said with a smile, brushing back his sister’s mahogany hair. "And how are you, little one? Have you behaved yourself while I was away? "

"Aye, Golas, I have. Ada only locked his study door one time," she answered soberly, her sky blue eyes twinkling. Hugging her tightly, Legolas pressed a kiss to her elaborate braids. Galueth was the image of their mother, who had died in an orch attack shortly after birthing her. Left with only one parent, she had been raised - and spoiled, some said - by her doting father and brothers.

"Let him breathe, child," an amused voice teased. Smiling in answer, Legolas lowered Galueth to the ground and caught his younger brother in a fierce hug. "And how fare you, Barangolas?"

Grinning, the copper-haired elf returned his brother’s embrace, emerald eyes twinkling. "I am well, tôren. And you seem very well indeed, for one just returned from a hard journey. We have missed you." Lowering his voice, he continued, "And I expect to hear all about your trip later." At Legolas’ questioning look, he tapped the mithril cuff. "All about it. I feel there is surely a story here."

"Welcome home, little brother," a voice interrupted, and Legolas turned to clasp his elder brother’s arm in greeting.

"Anteruon," Legolas said, laying a hand on one green-clad shoulder. "You are looking well."

"I am well," the crown prince replied, gripping his brother’s arm in return, his grey-green eyes warm. "Did you find the Peredhil celebration to your liking?"

Sighing, Legolas reminded himself silently that his brother rarely meant to be as arrogant as he sounded. The eldest of Thranduil’s children was much like Oropher, with his dark, almost metallic gold hair, and his often inflammatory manner of speaking.

"Aye, I had quite an enjoyable time," Legolas answered easily, ignoring the faint ring of insult in the tone of ‘Peredhil'. "How was the celebration here in Mirkwood?"

"It went very well..." Anteruon began, but his attention was diverted when a chance sunbeam glinted on Legolas’ mithril cuff. Inspecting the piece closely, he raised both eyebrows in teasing interrogation. "This is quite a hunk of mithril, Legolas. And just what did you do to earn such a tribute? Did you have to bed all the artisans of Imladris, or only her fascinating soul-sharing princes?"

His patience with Anteruon at a deadly low, Legolas grabbed his brother’s tunic, his blue-green eyes glittering dangerously. "If I thought you understood just how insulting that sounded, _tôren_, I would kill you," he spat out, his face close to Anteruon’s astonished countenance. "As it is, I will say that your lack of couth has reached new depths. You speak loosely of people and things that are dear to me. Do not make such a mistake again."

"Legolas," Thranduil said quietly, "Release him. Now."

Turning to Anteruon, he frowned. "And one day, my son, your mouth will be your ruin, if you do not learn to weigh your words. If he were aught but your kinsman, you would likely be maimed now. You owe Legolas an apology."

"I am sorry," the Crown Prince said stiffly. "I meant no harm."

Looking at his brother soberly, Legolas finally nodded, though his face remained grim. "Aye, I know. That is why you are bearable. Most of the time."

_   
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**********

_   
_

Barangolas settled into his chair, handing Legolas a glass of deep red Dorwinion wine. Grinning broadly at his elder brother, he said, "So? Tell me all about your trip."

"It was a celebration, just like the one here," Legolas replied. "I had quite a good time."

Shaking his head in exasperation, the youngest of Mirkwood’s princes retorted, "Very well, I shall be more direct. Tell me about that," he insisted, pointing at Legolas’ arm. Holding out his hand, Barangolas waited impatiently while his brother removed the mithril cuff, handing it over with a sigh. "It is beautiful, " he said appreciatively, running a finger over the smooth inlays.

"Aye, it is, indeed," Legolas agreed proudly, much to his brother’s delight.

"So, where did you get it?" Barangolas asked encouragingly.

"It was a gift," Legolas answered, offering no further information.

Frustrated, Barangolas said, "Even I know that, tôren, and I was not there! A gift from what elf? For what reason?" When Legolas remained silent, biting his lip in indecision, his brother turned back to the mithril piece. "Hmm, oak leaves on gold, surrounded by lapis lazuli and mithril. Tokens of Mirkwood surrounded by the colors of Imladris."

Jerking his head up at his brother’s words, so like those Glorfindel had used to describe the cuff, Legolas found himself gazing into an exultant face. "It is from one of the twins, is it not? And not a token of friendship, either, I would wager. Talk, Legolas. Which one? How did you choose?"

"Barangolas," Legolas began, unable to tell an outright lie, "please, let it be, hmm? I must consider how to tell..."

Suddenly Barangolas broke in, his eyes wide above a rapidly growing grin. "You did not choose, did you, tôren? It is from both of them, is it not? Come, Legolas. You have never been successful at deceiving me. I am right."

Looking intently at his brother, Legolas sighed. "Aye, you are right." At the youngest prince’s delighted chortle, Legolas raised a hand. His face stern, he continued, "And if you tell anyone, Barangolas, _anyone_, there will be no force on Arda that can save you. Do you understand me?"

"Very clearly, indeed." Laying a hand on his brother’s arm, Barangolas said seriously, "It is not just for fun, is it, tôren? ‘Tis about hearts?"

"Aye, it is about hearts," Legolas agreed, smiling slightly.

"You love them, then?" the youngest prince probed.

"Aye, that I do," Legolas answered, looking his brother full in the eye.

"I am very happy for you, Legolas. You love them both?" Barangolas asked again, a slight smile on his face.

Nodding, Legolas gripped his brother’s arm affectionately. "Aye."

Breaking into a full blown grin, Barangolas said, "Tell me, tôren, do you love them at the same time, or separately?"

Legolas nearly caught him before he made the door.

_   
_

*~*~*~*~*

_   
_

Galueth - beloved of the gods (Legolas’ sister)  
Barangolas - "ginger leaf" (Legolas’ younger brother)  
Anteruon - gift of Eru (Legolas’ elder brother)

Ada, Adar - Papa, Father  
híren - my lord  
tôren - my brother  


 


	3. Chapter 3

_~Imladris 2151 III~_

Celebrían looked closely at her sons, concern evident in her soft grey eyes. "They are so solemn, Elrond," she said worriedly, her brow creasing. "It is not normal. They have not behaved so since they were elflings."

The twins sat cuddled together in a large chair, apparently uninterested in the singing and laughter around them. In days past, the two would have sang the loudest, drank the most, and discomfited the entire Hall with their unrestrained ribaldry.

This night they were silent, their wine untouched. Curled around one another as though for warmth, dark heads pressed close, they spoke only when required, and then only as much as courtesy demanded. Their hands intertwined, they appeared less the formidable warriors they were than lost younglings, stubbornly refusing to be afraid.

Sighing heavily, Elrond replied, "Aye, I know. It is worse tonight than most, even. They fare better on patrol, or involved in some other task. When there is nothing to hold their minds, they brood. It will only be another few days, though, ere they will be free enough of duties to travel for a while."

Her warm grey eyes filled with sympathetic tears, Arwen rose from her position at Celebrían’s feet. "I can not bear it, Nana," she said softly, glancing toward her brothers. "Is there nothing we can do? I am going to talk with them. Maybe it will provide some distraction."

Elrond opened his mouth to argue, only to be silenced by a look from his wife. "Let her try," Celebrían said quietly, absently braiding her own mithril-pale hair. "It can do no harm."

"I suppose it cannot," Elrond agreed with a smile, catching one of the restless hands and holding it tightly. "And I prefer your hair unbound," he teased, loosing the silken plait that lay in coils on the velvet seat. "It is like moonlit water."

"Aye, and it tangles around my legs like river-weed," Celebrían retorted with an amused smile, before turning her attention to Arwen and the twins.

Arwen had settled in the floor before her brothers, her elbows propped casually on Elladan’s knee. "Will you ignore me, also, tôren?" she asked gently, looking up at the elder twin.

Turning clouded grey eyes on her, Elladan remained silent for a long moment, then smiled slightly, twisting a strand of his sister’s chocolate-brown hair around one finger. "Nay, little sister, I will not ignore you. It would not be possible, even if I tried."

"Of course not," Arwen said with a smile. "And what of you, Rohir?" she asked, nudging the elf-knight with one finger.

With a heavy sigh, Elrohir shook his head, the smallest of smiles touching his lips. "Nay, Arwen, I know better than to ignore you. It would likely end with my hair sticky and my skin blue."

Her eyes sparkling, Arwen pouted fetchingly. "Do not exaggerate, tôren. I only did that one time, and it was naught but honey and blueberries."

Chuckling, Elladan reached down and pulled Arwen into their chair, burying his nose in her wavy tresses. "It is good to have you back home. What were you up to in Lórien, dare I ask?"

"Only the usual celebration doings," Arwen answered casually, causing eyebrows to raise on two identical faces. "it was much like feasting time here. I had quite a lot of fun."

"Would you like to elaborate on ‘usual celebration doings?'" Elrohir asked suspiciously. "Should we prepare for a horde of indignant Galadhrim? Or must ‘Dan and I go to Lórien and teach them to properly respect our sister?"

"The two of you are worse than Nana," the victim of the interrogation said with a grin. "I am full-grown, and able to look after myself. Though I appreciate your concern."

Her face becoming serious, Arwen tucked an inky-black braid behind Elladan’s ear. "I am glad you have found another," she said softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead, then Elrohir's in turn. "I would that I had been here to see your happiness, rather than only the sorrow of your parting."

"It is not our intent to burden the household with our mood," Elrohir sighed, his face guilty. "We are not the best of company this evening. It has been a long day, with much time for thought."

"If it was such a long day, perhaps you should go to your bed? It is possible that it would improve both your moods," his sister answered kindly.

Elladan snorted in amusement, a trace of the usual devilment twinkling in his eyes. "Watch your words, Arwen. It would most likely improve my disposition, aye, but it is hardly appropriate advice from my little sister, do you think?"

Elrohir grinned broadly, to the amazement of the surrounding elves. Lowering his voice, he teased, "Most inappropriate, indeed. What have you been up to in Lórien to leave you with such a bold tongue, little one?"

Arwen stared at the snickering twins blankly for a moment, then flushed brightly in sudden comprehension. "It was not meant as such, and well you know it, 'Adan!" she hissed quietly. "Hush, 'Rohir!" she snapped, turning on the chuckling younger twin with a glare.

Hugging his sister tightly, Elrohir said, "I am sorry, Arwen. We know you meant well. But you have brightened our mood, at any cost."

Arwen looked at her brothers ruefully, then a reluctant smile lit her face. "Aye, I have, indeed. And that is worth a blush, I guess."

_   
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****************

_   
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_~Mirkwood 2151 III~_

Thranduil drew a deep breath, thankful for the short respite from the steady stream of elves craving his counsel on one matter or another. This weekly open audience, however necessary, was a thorn in the king’s side. Though he had ruled for centuries, the son of Oropher was still a warrior at heart, and would have preferred the rigors of patrol duty to the mind-numbing chatter of most of his visitors.

Sitting in blessed silence in the council room, Thranduil closed his eyes, allowing his mind to wander aimlessly. He had much to ponder. It had been nearly two moons since Legolas’ return from Imladris, but the usually forthcoming prince had yet to confide in his father.

Thranduil was not a fool. Musing over his middle son’s demeanor, the king felt fairly confident that he knew Legolas’ secret. The prince had obviously taken a lover in Imladris, and a serious one, at that. The mithril cuff pointed to one of Elrond’s children, certainly. No other would throw around the tokens of two elven realms with such impunity. ‘_Except Legolas, of course,’_ Thranduil admitted wryly, if only to himself.

It pointed to one of Elrond’s sons, to be precise. Fully aware that his second son’s preference was for males, Thranduil eliminated the Lady Arwen outright. Legolas may have dallied with a few maidens over the years, but this intensity...this was a male, no doubt. But which twin? It was hard to imagine one without the other, and Legolas had always been equally close to both. The king found himself hoping the one in question was Elrohir, for purely selfish reasons.

Though he was equally fond of both Elrond’s sons, and indeed would have been hard-pressed to tell them apart without their beads, Elladan was the heir-apparent to Imladris. If Elrond ever decided to withdraw from the daily responsibilities of ruling, the elder twin would take his place. And Thranduil well knew how little time such a burden left for extended travel. Such a match, if it lasted, would force Legolas to forsake Mirkwood, or live much of the time apart from his lover. Though Elrohir would also have duties, their nature should be such that he could be spared for short periods. If a binding came of the match, it would be possible to split time between the two realms.

Then there was the question of heirs. Of Thranduil’s children, the eldest and youngest seemed likely to present him with grandchildren. Barangolas, like his brother, showed a definite leaning toward his own kind. Elrond’s views he was not sure of...the king had to admit, heirs were far less important to immortals than to men...

Shaking his head ruefully, Thranduil chuckled at his own runaway thoughts. _'Scarce four moons since he left for Imladris, and I have them bound, serving two realms, and worrying about heirs,’ _he mused with a smile. Firmly pushing away further thoughts of Imladris, bindings, and elflings, the king returned to his duties.

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*****************

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_~Imladris 2151 III~_

Elladan slid the beads from his hair, his eyes troubled as he watched his brother. Elrohir stood before the arches, staring unseeingly at the moonlit gardens. Slipping on loose sleep-pants, Elladan moved up behind Elrohir, wrapping his arms around the elf-knight’s waist.

Elrohir settled thankfully into the embrace, tracing the rapidly fading scar on Elladan’s arm with a gentle finger. "It is nearly gone. We will have to remember to tell ‘Las about it."

"Nay, ‘tis unworthy of a tale, ‘Roh. It was little more than a scratch," his brother replied, dropping a kiss on the tip of one ear. "Your beheading of the thug that did it makes a better story."

"It was quite a bit more than a scratch, tôren, " Elrohir argued. "The bleeding was frightful to see."

"So was his head as it hit the ground, rohir nín," Elladan retorted, one eyebrow arched teasingly.

"Better his head than yours, ‘Dan," Elrohir said soberly. "And you would have done the same for me, had it been my sword arm injured."

"Aye, I would, indeed," the elder twin conceded. Tightening his hold on Elrohir, Elladan bent his head to nuzzle his brother’s neck. "But are we going to stand here in mutual admiration, or are you coming to bed?"

Elrohir snickered, turning in the embrace. Eyes sparkling, he pressed a lingering kiss to his twin’s mouth. "That is a difficult decision. Can you not admire me in bed, too?"

Elladan grinned, untying his brother’s lacings before reaching for his own. "I believe I can manage that, aye. Take those off."

Stripping off his sleep-pants, Elrohir turned to the bed, only to find Elladan staring at him intently. In response to a questioning eyebrow, the elder twin smiled slightly, his silver-grey eyes already darkening. "I am admiring you, just as you asked, rohir nín. Come here and let me show you."

Dropping to the bed, Elrohir stretched himself beside his twin, reaching out to pull him close. Raising himself on one elbow, Elladan caught his brother’s lips in a possessive kiss, forcing them apart to delve deeply into the wet warmth. Pulling away, he slid down and took Elrohir’s pierced nipple in his mouth, suckling and tugging at the mithril ring with his tongue, rolling the unpierced left nipple between his fingers teasingly.

Elrohir groaned, tangling his hands in the dark tresses that slid tantalizingly across his chest and stomach. "Oh, Valar, ‘Dan..." he panted, tugging his brother back up into a fiery kiss. Arching up, Elrohir rocked his hips slowly, rubbing their hardened lengths together until they both whimpered.

Reaching between their slick bodies, Elladan closed his hand around his brother’s straining erection, drawing another desperate groan from the elf-knight. "Wait...please..." Elrohir gasped, grabbing Elladan’s wrist.

"Why, rohir nín?" Elladan purred, trailing his tongue wetly from ear to neck, suckling and nipping to mark the translucent skin. "Does it not please you?"

"Sweet Elbereth, of course it pleases me..." Elrohir moaned, turning his head instinctively to offer the other ear. "Bur...stop...please...just a minute..."

Elladan obediently stopped his nuzzling, but kept his teeth closed on the tip of his brother’s ear.

_Aye? What is amiss?_

_Together, el nín. Let go with me._

Allowing the reddened ear to slip from his mouth, Elladan raised his head to meet Elrohir's eyes. Identical midnight-dark glances locked, sending a shiver through both elves, and Elladan smiled wickedly.

_Oh, I intend to, rohir nín._

Returning his hand to Elrohir’s weeping arousal, Elladan positioned it against his own and began to stroke them as one, mingling the leaking fluids, slicking both hard columns in a merciless rhythm that soon had both twins gasping for breath.

Suddenly seizing his brother’s wrist, Elrohir pulled the pumping hand away, thrusting up violently with his hips, causing their aching erections to rub together forcefully. "Oh, Valar...like that..." he hissed, pulling Elladan down against himself with an iron grip, grinding their bodies together roughly. "No more hand...like that..."

Elladan growled harshly, returning the fierce hold, digging his fingers into his brother’s buttocks as they writhed together, pale limbs and ebony hair merging into one indiscernible whole. Arching his back forcefully, Elrohir froze for an instant, then groaned wordlessly as his silvery seed spilled over both bodies.

Elladan held the trembling form helplessly, feeling his own groin tighten as the warm wetness splashed across his oversensitized skin. With a last sobbing gasp he reached his own release, shuddering violently in Elrohir's embrace.

As their ragged breathing eased, Elrohir felt a teasing voice brush his mind.

_Was that enough admiration for you, tôren?_

Snuggling closer to his soul’s mate, he let go a reply.

_It was a good start…_

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*~*~*~*~*

_   
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Nana - Mama  
tôren - my brother  
rohir nín - my knight  
el nín - my star  


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	4. Interlude I - Educating the King

Legolas paced the floor of his bed-chamber, distractedly toying with the mithril cuff that wrapped his upper arm. He had just returned from a two-week patrol to welcome news. Elladan and Elrohir were on their way to Mirkwood at last and expected within the week, barring unforeseen delays. After a separation of almost four moons, the prince was to be reunited with his lovers - and he had still not spoken with his father.

Sighing, Legolas cursed himself soundly for delaying the inevitable. Though he had once thought it best to await the twins' arrival before telling Thranduil of their changed relationship, he now felt it a grave mistake. Mirkwood was his realm, thus her reaction - as well as that of her king - was his responsibility. In addition, Thranduil was aware of his son’s unusual reticence, and saddened by it.

Legolas feared that, however unwittingly, his continued silence would foster the impression that he was ashamed of his lovers, of their bond. He would not let Elladan and Elrohir arrive to such a reception. Thranduil, at least, must know exactly how things stood between the three before the twins' arrival. His mind made up, Legolas headed for the king’s study.

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**************

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Thranduil looked up expectantly as Legolas knocked on the open door, beckoning his son in with a broad grin. "Come in," he invited, laying down his quill.

"I hope I am not interrupting, Ada," Legolas said with a weak smile. "I need to speak with you, if you have time."

"Nay, you are not interrupting. It is time for a break, anyway," Thranduil answered, his brow creasing slightly as Legolas firmly shut the door. "Pour us a drink?"

Rising from his chair gracefully, the king moved to one of the comfortable chairs that sat before the open balcony doors. Legolas filled two goblets with the heady Dorwinion red that Thranduil always kept near to hand, then dropped into his seat, handing one glass to his father.

Thranduil sipped his drink appreciatively, then turned his emerald gaze on the prince. "What is troubling you, Legolas?" he asked gently. "You have been distant from me these past weeks, even when you were present."

Legolas bowed his head guiltily. "I know Ada, and I am sorry," he sighed. "I have struggled with this for many days, unable to see my way."

"And now you have decided that it is best to share your problem with me?" Thranduil said, his eyes twinkling slightly. "I would like that."

Unsure how exactly to proceed, Legolas bit his lip. "It would be incorrect to call it a problem, Ada," he began. "At least, it is not a problem for me."

"But you fear it may be a problem in my eyes," Thranduil guessed, looking intently at his son. "Am I that frightening, young one?"

Legolas shook his head firmly, holding the king’s gaze. "Nay, Ada, not frightening. But I love you dearly and your esteem is important to me. I would not risk losing it without great cause."

"And this event is sufficient cause?" Thranduil asked, his face sober.

Legolas was still for a moment, then nodded. "Aye, it is, indeed. ‘Tis sufficient cause to take the risk. Or any other risk, Ada."

The king smiled suddenly, and reached for his son’s hand, gripping it tightly. "Then we will work it out, for I am loath to lose your esteem, also."

Somewhat heartened, Legolas took a deep breath, and began. "I have not told you of all that happened in Imladris. It was more than a pleasant holiday, híren. I...I have left the larger part of my heart there, Ada."

"In whose care?" Thranduil asked gently, touching the gleaming mithril cuff. "I assume it is one of the sons of Elrond?"

Legolas swallowed hard, then met his father’s questioning gaze frankly. "Nay, Ada, not _one_ of Lord Elrond’s sons," he replied honestly, searching the king’s face for understanding.

Thranduil looked puzzled, his brow wrinkling. "But the cuff...surely no other would dare..."

Reaching out to lay a hand on his father’s shoulder, Legolas repeated, "It is not _one _of Elrond’s sons, Ada. It is..."

Thranduil’s eyes widened suddenly, as realization dawned. "..._it is both!_" he broke in, his voice rising at least an octave. "For the love of Elbereth, son, what are you thinking? You are bedding _both_ the Peredhil twins?"

Wincing at the language, Legolas agreed cautiously. "Aye, but it is more than a simple tumble, Ada. I love them..."

Holding up a hand, the king closed his eyes for a moment. His voice nearer its normal rich timbre, he asked, "Does Elrond know?" When Legolas nodded, Thranduil rolled his eyes, muttering unflattering remarks in which ‘secretive, devil-spawning Noldo’ figured prominently.

Regaining control, the king asked, "But how do _they_ feel about sharing? There is but one of you, Legolas, and I would not have you torn in half, literally _or_ in spirit. And it would pain me to see the twins turn on one another."

Uncertain how much detail his father needed - or wanted - Legolas chose his words carefully. "There is no danger of that, Ada. Elladan and Elrohir share one soul. It is as one being that they love me, not as rivals. To them it is not a matter of sharing. There are only two souls involved."

"Two souls, aye, but three bodies, Legolas," Thranduil pointed out. "How can such an arrangement survive?" The corners of his mouth curling slightly, he queried, "Will you keep a bed calendar?"

Surprised by the unexpected teasing, the prince found himself grinning at the idea. _‘I will have to suggest that when they arrive,’_ he thought, suppressing a snicker. Turning his attention firmly back to his father, Legolas looked at the king appraisingly before speaking. "I am not sure how much you want to know, Ada. Surely this is an uncomfortable subject for you."

"What is an uncomfortable subject?" Thranduil asked with a small smile. "My son’s bed-play?"

His cheeks reddening slightly, Legolas nodded.

The king shook his head, his face kind. "Nay, the subject is not too uncomfortable." Smiling at Legolas' flushed face, he said, "Though if the memories cause you to color like that, I want no details, thank you all the same."

Grappling for a way to explain the triad without creating explicit mental imagery, Legolas sat silently for a long moment, then drew a deep breath. "We need ready no guest rooms for their stay, Ada."

"But surely we must provide a second bed chamber. I cannot have Elrond’s sons sleeping by turn on the floor," Thranduil protested. "A chamber near yours, of course. There is that nice one just below..."

"_Ada_," Legolas broke in firmly, securing the king’s attention. When Thranduil raised a questioning eyebrow, he said gently, "We have no need of a second chamber, Ada. Nor a second bed. Mine is quite sufficiently large. And all that is needed."

Thranduil stared at his son for what seemed an eternity, and opened his mouth to speak. Then closed it again. After several attempts, he managed what he knew was a singularly inadequate response.

"Oh."

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*~*~*~*~*

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Ada, Adar - Papa, Father  
híren - my lord  


__


	5. Chapter 5

_~The Eaves of Mirkwood 2151 III~_

Two heavily cloaked figures broke from the small group of horsemen, turning their mounts to face the departing Rangers. Exchanging gestures of farewell with each of the riders, two lyrical voices rang in soft chorus through the frosty cold of a late winter dawn. "Farewell, Arahael. Elbereth’s protection."

"I do not like leaving you at the edge of this accursed wood, most particularly not in such cold," the leader of the riders said, his face grave. "I do not fancy carrying news of your fall home to Imladris."

"We are peredhil, Arahael. We do not heed the cold overly much, as well you know. Do not worry so, gwadoren," Elrohir replied kindly, his breath visible in the frigid air. "We were traipsing in the wilds long before your people were driven to wandering."

"Aye, we were, indeed," Elladan agreed. "We were glad of your company over the mountains, but we need no escort in Mirkwood. We will be fine. And you have many more miles to go on your own journey. Best begin early, and set a good pace."

Nodding reluctantly, Arahael pulled up his horse, leaning forward to grip each twin's arm in turn. "Farewell, Elladan...Elrohir. Elbereth’s blessing to you." With a last wave of his hand, the Chieftain of the Dúnedain led his men away, leaving his foster brothers on the edge of the great wood.

Twinkling silver-grey eyes met above growing smiles, as the twins urged their mounts forward.

"Step lively, Mithrengil," Elladan ordered, slapping the shade -grey stallion’s neck affectionately. "We are going to see your friend, Ornfaer."

Elrohir’s slightly darker mount tossed his head with a snort, as though in answer to the elder twin. Chuckling, Elrohir leaned up and scratched the stallion’s ears affectionately. "Aye, you too, Alagos," he said, turning to follow his brother into the forest.

  


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_~Mirkwood 2151 III~_

"How will you manage this?" Thranduil asked, concern evident in his voice. "I would ask only that you maintain a sense of propriety." As Legolas opened his mouth to protest the king’s choice of words, Thranduil raised his hand in a well-known request for silence. "I have spent some measure of time in Imladris myself, young one, and I realize Elrond’s folk are less restrained in their displays of affection than is usual for our realm."

"I believe I may be credited with knowing how to behave in public, híren," Legolas said with a frown. "I have no plans that involve coupling in the courtyard, if that is your fear. And I will try to muffle my screams."

"Legolas!" the king said sternly, both eyebrows elevated in umbrage. "There is no call for such sarcasm. I have no doubt you can and will behave properly." His face softening, Thranduil continued, "I do not pretend to understand exactly how such a relationship came to be, or how it can endure. But I will support you in this, my son, if it is your heart’s desire."

Legolas dropped his head. "Forgive me, Ada. It was disrespectful to speak to you in such a manner. But I am no more likely to make a spectacle of myself than Anteruon or Barangolas."

"Aye, and possibly less so," the king agreed. "But there is no denying this relationship is out of the ordinary. Will you discuss it with your brothers before the twins arrive, or leave them to discover the situation in their own time?"

"Barangolas is somewhat aware already," Legolas admitted. At Thranduil’s inquiring look, he shrugged, grinning sheepishly. "Younger brothers are a trial. He would not let it rest until I confessed." As the king’s eyes widened, the prince hurriedly added, "But not in detail."

"Perhaps I should place him in charge of interrogating prisoners," Thranduil said with a wry smile, "or take lessons from him myself." His smile fading, he looked at Legolas intently. "What of Anteruon? This is likely to cause some unpleasantness, young one."

"Aye, I know," Legolas answered soberly. "I have no wish to cause discord in the family, or in the realm, Ada. And I love Anteruon, despite the occasional urge to throttle him. But I will not have this relationship treated like something shameful. I refuse to skulk in the shadows to satisfy anyone's twisted idea of propriety, and I will not ask Elladan and Elrohir to engage in any pretense."

Thranduil was silent for a moment, then said thoughtfully, "If you will have my advice, I would let Anteruon come to terms with this slowly. Forcing a confrontation will do naught but raise his back. Do as you must, and let him ask his own questions, in his own time."

Nodding in agreement, Legolas offered, "It would be a mistake, I think, to treat this as an oddity. Have I ever announced a lover to my brothers, or to the realm? It is a personal matter, and no explanation is owed to anyone, save yourself, perhaps."

"The privileges of fatherhood?" Thranduil chuckled. "I feel you are right, Legolas. There is no need to borrow strife. It will find you, I fear, without any encouragement. But we will face that when it comes."

"Thank you, Ada," Legolas said, embracing his father warmly. "I will..."

_‘Las? Can you hear me?_

"Legolas? What is wrong?" Thranduil asked in concern, as the prince froze in place, his eyes wide.

_Anor nín?_

Breaking into a joyful grin, Legolas distractedly shushed the king. "Wait, Ada, please."

_‘Dan? ‘Roh? Where are you?_

_We are leaving the second clearing, soon as ‘Dan smothers the fire._

_It is done, tôren. ‘Las, can you hear us both?_

_Aye, I can, indeed, el nín. It is as though you are standing here with me._

_We will be very soon, anor nín. We will be with you in a few hours._

_I will meet you at the gates._

"Legolas?" Thranduil repeated, grasping his son’s arm tightly. "Are you well?"

"I am more than well, Ada," Legolas replied, his face beaming. "Elladan and Elrohir are leaving the nearest clearing. They should be here shortly past the midday meal."

His eyes widening, Thranduil said, "You mindspeak with them?"

"Aye, and it was much clearer than the last time," Legolas answered, unaware of his father’s fast growing amazement. "I could hear them both, as though they were here in the chamber with us. It was quite nice."

"You have learned quickly, Legolas. Did Elrond tutor you while you were in the valley?" Thranduil probed curiously.

"Nay, Ada, no one taught me, so to say. Elladan discovered that he could reach me quite by accident one day," Legolas explained briefly, wisely deciding that details of the event were unnecessary. "It is not difficult."

"They are still a fair distance away, young one," Thranduil said slowly. "At the outer reach of most minds...indeed, it would almost be proper to call it farspeaking, of a sort."

"That is excellent, then, Ada, is it not?" Legolas asked, his eyes shining delightedly. "Perhaps I will be able to reach them in Imladris one day, if I continue to strive?"

"I do not doubt that you will," Thranduil agreed, his face thoughtful.

  


******************

  


"Halt!"

The command rang out from above, even as three elven guards, bows at the ready, dropped from the trees, barring the narrow path.

"Where are you bound?" the middle guard demanded sternly, his eyes roving over the two cloaked travelers.

Recognizing the copper-haired sentry, Elrohir forced back a grin and replied, "Mae govannen, Barangolas. We seek refuge in your realm."

"Elrohir? Elladan?" Barangolas guessed, a smile spreading slowly across his face. "Mae govannen. It would be best to let your ears show, lest you be shot as brigands, and the mistake discovered after."

Chuckling, the twins pushed back their hoods and slid to the ground. Embracing each in turn, Barangolas added, "And it would then be my head and bits that Legolas would seek. It is in my best interest that you arrive safely at the gates. Do you wish an escort?"

Looking thoughtfully at the youngest woodland prince, Elladan replied, "Nay, we know the path well enough. Unless we shall need a friendly companion when we arrive?"

Barangolas chortled delightedly. "I wager you will find the welcome quite warm. My brother has been pacing before the gates since the nooning, and Ada will wait until you enter the Halls." Grinning, he teased, "On with you, and hurry, ere Legolas goes mad."

Leading Alagos down the hidden path to the gates of the Thranduil’s halls, Elrohir said musingly, "Barangolas knows something of our relationship, it seems."

"Aye, he certainly does," Elladan agreed, tightening his grip on Mithrengil’s bridle, "and he did not seem discomfited. We can only hope for such..."

Coming suddenly into the small clearing before the gates, Elladan let his thought fall away unfinished.

The entrance to the woodland realm was flung open in welcome, and before it stood Legolas, his face aglow as he started toward the weary travelers. Trusting the horses to stand, the twins met him halfway, gathering him in a fierce double embrace.

Snuggling tightly against his lovers, Legolas breathed deeply, inhaling the familiar scent that seemed to cling to them through all trials and travels. A scent of brisk wind and rain, of waterfalls and evergreens...of Imladris.

"We have missed you, anor nín," Elrohir whispered, burying his nose in sunlit golden hair.

"Aye, we have, indeed," Elladan said softly, with a chaste kiss to one cheek. "This was surely the longest winter ever suffered on Arda."

"And I have missed you," Legolas answered, nuzzling each throat in turn, his tongue lapping gently over the familiar skin. "Very much, indeed."

"Stop, ‘Las," Elrohir warned, even as he instinctively leaned toward the teasing touches. "This is not a good idea."

"I find it quite to my liking," Legolas retorted, pressing a lingering kiss to each long-missed mouth. "And think it an excellent idea."

"It is quite to my liking, also," Elladan agreed with a smile, running a golden braid through his fingers. "But I feel fairly certain Thranduil would frown on a pile of coupling elves before his gates, and you are testing my control sorely, anor nín."

"Aye, and I have none to test," Elrohir added cheerfully, "so we had best greet King Thranduil immediately, yes? We can then give your excellent idea serious attention."

Pulling away reluctantly, Legolas nodded. "Perhaps you are right. It would be foolish to try Ada’s patience so early in your visit." Turning toward the gates, he caught a glimpse of golden hair atop green robes and drew a deep breath. "Come on," he urged, wrapping an arm around each of his lovers. "Ada is waiting just beyond the gates."

"Does he know, ‘Las?" Elladan asked belatedly, as they walked toward the waiting monarch.

"If he did not before our arrival, he does now," Elrohir snickered before the prince could reply.

Casting a reproachful look at the elf-knight, Legolas replied, "Aye, he does, but..."

Further explanation was delayed as the woodland king stepped into the path of the trio. "Mae govannen, Elladan...Elrohir."

Moving as one elf, the twins stepped away from Legolas and bowed low, their faces serious. "Mae govannen, King Thranduil," they chorused. "We are yours to command."

Smiling warmly, the king laid a hand on each dark head. "I have no wish to command you, and there is no need for formality between us. Come, let me look at the two of you."

Shaking his head slightly, Thranduil carefully studied the mirror images before him, his smile becoming wistful. Naught was left of youthful awkwardness in the two standing there. Beautiful they were, as always, but the soft beauty of their adolescence had crystallized into something much harder, much more dangerous...a dark, visceral sensuality that drove its hook straight through the heart, into the groin. _'Oh, young one,' _he thought anxiously, _'What have you done?’_

"Ada?" Legolas said with a frown, "What is amiss?"

Drawing a deep breath, Thranduil turned to his son, "Nothing is amiss. I was simply lost in thought and memory. A risk of age, I fear."

As he returned his attention to his guests, Thranduil found himself caught in Elladan’s gaze, the grey eyes kind, but appraising, as though aware of his musings. Looking to the younger twin, he found that Elrohir was looking at him in like manner. Here, at least, the king could still glimpse the younglings he had known. Their unusual silvery eyes still sparkled with the same life and warmth.

Somewhat reassured, Thranduil smiled. "I know you must be hungry, and weary...and in need of a bath." Gazing pointedly at his son, he continued, "Legolas will show you to your chambers. I will have a tray sent while you bathe, if that is to your liking?" As the twins nodded gratefully, he went on, "Then I wish you a good rest and will expect you at my table for dinner."

As they turned to climb the curving stairs, Elrohir stopped suddenly. "What of the horses, tôren?" he asked Elladan with a grin. "We have walked off and left our mounts in the wood unattended."

"The stable hands took them," Legolas said reassuringly. "Mithrengil and Alagos will be well cared for, and stabled with Ornfaer. I had already left instructions."

"Then let us see to our own care and feeding," Elladan suggested, nudging Legolas toward the stairs. "Lead on."

As they entered the spacious dwelling on the third level of the Halls, Elladan and Elrohir looked around in amazement. The main room was dominated by a large bed, its frame of thick, bark covered limbs. On the wall over the bed hung an enormous oak leaf, wrought entirely of hammered gold, the thin metal pressed into a shape both exquisite and incredibly life-like.

The entire chamber seemed woven of twigs, yet the floor was solid underfoot, and scattered with soft furs. A massive iron fire-bowl sat atop a clay pedestal, and glowing coals heated a kettle of water. The walls did not reach the roof, but stopped an arm length short, allowing dappled sunlight to filter onto the simple wooden furnishings. An open door in the back wall revealed a large balcony, which reached out among the leaves, away from the courtyard.

"This is your chamber, is it not ‘Las?" Elrohir asked, looking at the prince curiously. "I recognize your bow," he added, nodding at the weapon propped against the wall.

"Aye, it is," Legolas answered, taking the two packs and placing them in a corner. "It is not so fancy as the Last Homely House, but quite comfortable."

"It is perfect, anor nín," Elladan said sincerely, moving to touch the woven walls in wonder. "I do not remember such walls from our earlier visits."

"You likely stayed in guest chambers," Legolas explained. "They are mostly ground level, and have stone walls and such." He grinned suddenly. "When you were not sleeping on open platforms, that is."

Elladan chuckled. "This is much preferable to an open platform, I must say."

"Aye, it is," Elrohir agreed with a grin, "and preferable to stone walls, as well. But is this what your Ada intended? For us to share your chambers?"

"He did, indeed, rohir nín. But that is enough talk for the moment. You are welcome to use my bathing chamber, or I will take you to the cavern pools, if you prefer."

Eyes sparkling, Elladan asked, "You think us in need of a washing, then, wood-elf?"

"Aye, I do," Legolas replied with a grin, planting a warm kiss on Elladan’s lips. "I have no intention of tumbling two filthy elves."

"You intend to tumble two elves? ‘Las! And in the afternoon?" Elrohir teased, nuzzling an ear. "What will your Ada think?"

"Nothing that approaches the reality, I wager," Legolas purred, kissing Elrohir soundly. "Now go scrub, before your food arrives."

"We will use your tub, anor nín," Elladan said with a grin. "It will be faster."

Picking up the kettle of hot water, Legolas led the way into the small bathing chamber. A large tub stood in one corner, under a short hollow branch that extended through the wall. As his guests watched in surprise, the prince moved the wooden tube slightly, and a rush of water poured into the tub. He emptied the hot water into the bath, then refilled the kettle under the water flow.

Noting the twins’ confusion he grinned, then explained, "From the reservoir tanks. We collect rain and snowmelt to provide water for the Halls. Now into the bath with you. There are soaps and oils on the shelf, and towels on the rack."

"Clean clothes?" Elrohir said, one eyebrow arched in question.

"That would be a waste of time," Legolas answered, his blue-green eyes twinkling. "Just wear a towel."

  


*~*~*~*~*

  


Mithrengil - "grey star" (Elladan’s horse)  
Alagos - "storm of wind" (Elrohir’s horse)

híren - my lord  
Ada, Adar - Papa, Father  
el nín - my star  
anor nín - my sun  
rohir nín - my knight  
tôren - my brother  
Mae govannen - well met   


  



	6. Chapter 6

Legolas stripped off his mithril cuff, then his tunic, biting his lip in frustration. _‘Blessed Eru,’_ he thought, _‘how long does it take to bathe?’_

Prowling impatiently around the bed-chamber, he nibbled distractedly at the tray of fruit, cheese and bread that had just arrived. A full bottle of potent red wine accompanied the food, and Legolas absently poured himself a glass of the treasured Dorwinion offering.

Intent on his task, Legolas failed to note the soundless swing of the bathing-chamber door, until gentle hands twisted his golden hair, baring the back of his neck for a rain of soft kisses.

"That is a powerful libation, ‘Las," Elladan teased, snaking his arms around the prince’s waist, his palms sliding smoothly over bare skin, "and could interfere mightily with your intention of tumbling two elves."

Leaning back against the bath-warm body, Legolas sighed deeply. "I assure you, el nín, there is not _that _much wine in the realm," he promised with a smile, burying his face in the damp ebony-dark locks that streamed over his lover’s shoulders.

"I have missed you, anor nín," Elladan whispered, lapping and nipping gently at Legolas' ear. "_We _have missed you...your smell, and feel, and taste..."

Turning in the loose embrace, Legolas wrapped his arms around Elladan, pressing their bodies together snugly. "Then taste me, melethen," he whispered, tongue flicking invitingly over his lover’s lips, begging entrance, "before I go mad."

Legolas growled in triumph as Elladan’s mouth opened, taking in the questing tongue eagerly. Struggling to maintain control of the kiss, the prince tangled both hands in his lover’s silky tresses, preventing all but the smallest movement. Teeth clinked together violently as tongues wrestled wetly for dominance...then suddenly, the battle ended.

Much to Legolas’ surprise, Elladan’s kiss became yielding, nearly passive, as he allowed the prince free rein to plunder his mouth, merely caressing the thrusting tongue lightly with his own. At first astounded by the rare surrender, then enflamed by what it might portend, Legolas moaned into the kiss, grinding his hips meaningfully against his towel-clad partner.

Elladan whimpered at the contact, pressing forward urgently, his hands sliding down his lover's back to pull their bodies more tightly together. His own eyes emerald-dark, Legolas pulled away slightly and found himself looking into eyes that were no longer silver-grey, but nearly black with desire.

"Would you have me?" Elladan asked softly, his breath coming in shallow gasps. "Would it please you?"

"Aye, I would," Legolas breathed. "It would please me very much, indeed."

"Can I not leave the two of you alone for a moment?" an amused voice broke in, as Elrohir slipped his arms around Legolas, loosing the prince's straining lacings. "It is nearly indecent haste you show."

Lowering his head to suckle Legolas' throat, marking the pale skin with a rosy bruise, Elrohir murmured, "I wager I could spend myself just watching you, anor nín."

Turning his head to capture Elrohir’s mouth in a fierce kiss, Legolas whispered, "It would be a shame were you to be undone just yet, rohir nín. I have need of you here."

Reaching inside the opened leggings, Elrohir ran teasing fingers over Legolas’ arousal. Hissing at the touch, the prince pressed back, pulling Elladan with him. "Elbereth, ‘Roh, be careful!" Legolas gasped, his back arching reflexively, the friction causing Elladan to groan as well. "Else I will be the one undone."

"Aye, and that is a sight I am eager to see again, ‘Las. It has been too long," Elrohir growled, licking a sensitive ear tip lavishly. "But what have you done to ‘Dan to leave him so pliable, hmm?"

Pressing his mouth to the prince’s ear, he lowered his voice further, the growl becoming a silky purr. "’Tis only you and me, 'Las, did you know?" At the arch of one golden eyebrow, Elrohir murmured, "He has never allowed another to take him. In all the years since our majority, we are the only two. Does it not make you feel powerful, anor nín? And loved?"

"Very loved," Legolas said soberly, raining soft kisses over Elladan’s face, before capturing his mouth gently. "Come lie with me, please?" the prince asked, tugging impatiently at the concealing towel. "There has been enough play. I need you." Reaching back, he stripped Elrohir of his towel in one swift movement. "Both of you."

Fetching a vial of oil from the bathing chamber, Legolas returned to find both the twins stretched wantonly on his bed, their dark hair and starlit skin glowing in the filtered sunlight. Stripping off his leggings roughly, Legolas slipped between them and kissed each soundly, then flipped open the oil vial, pouring a generous puddle into Elrohir’s hand first. Grasping Elladan’s wrist, he drizzled a pool of oil into the elder twin’s palm as well, sending a thought in response to the arch of an ebony eyebrow.

_Help me?_

An answer came quickly, as Elladan closed his oiled hand around Legolas' erection, slicking it with the warm fluid.

Groaning at the feel of the slippery hand on him, Legolas quickly splashed oil into his own hand, then coated Elrohir’s hard flesh with languid strokes, before stretching himself out beside Elladan, his oiled fingers tracing light circles, teasing apart his lover's thighs.

"I have thought of little but this every night since I returned," Legolas whispered, sliding down to suckle and tug at the mithril nipple ring, while his oiled fingers moved enticingly over Elladan’s entrance, pressing harder with each pass. Nipping his way back up to Elladan's throat, Legolas bit down sharply, marking the translucent skin at the same moment he thrust his fingers into his lover's body. Elladan gasped sharply, pushing down on the invading hand.

Hearing a sharp intake of breath as Elrohir moved close behind him, Legolas obligingly bent his top leg, hissing in pleasure as he was stretched and slicked with oil. He pulled his mouth from Elladan's bruised throat, leaning his head back to lap at Elrohir's jaw, then suckle his neck, leaving a near-copy of Elladan’s marking behind.

"How would you have me, melethen?" Elladan asked, his usually lyrical voice raspy with desire. "'Tis your day."

"Like this," Legolas breathed, moving between his lover’s spread thighs. "I would see your face, el nín." Steadying the hips that were lifted in shameless invitation, Legolas positioned himself carefully, then entered with one smooth thrust, unable to hold back a groan. Elladan's legs immediately curled around his waist, pulling him deeper into the oil-slicked warmth, then slid back up over his arms, granting him space to move. "Elbereth, ‘Dan, be still," he ground out, biting his lip in concentration. "I will not last."

Elrohir quickly moved behind Legolas, rubbing his aching erection teasingly against the oiled cleft. "Are you ready, anor nín?" he asked hoarsely, grasping Legolas' hips firmly. Receiving a frantic nod in answer, he pushed forward, burying himself in the welcoming heat, a hiss of pleasure escaping as Legolas pushed back forcefully. "Move...please..." he rasped, loosing his tight grip on the prince’s hips.

Legolas began to move rhythmically, thrusting forward to sheath himself, then back onto the shaft that pierced him, his breathing becoming audible as he gave in to the sensations and increased the pace of his movements.

Entranced by the sight of the usually dominant Elladan spread beneath him like a willing sacrifice - eyes dark as night, ebony hair spread over the bed, hands wrapped in the headboard to anchor himself against the pounding thrusts - Legolas felt the first faint tightening in his stomach. Quickly grasping his lover’s weeping arousal in an oil-slick hand, he began stroking in time with his increasingly violent thrusts, forcing a string of incomprehensible oaths from Elladan's mouth.

For a brief moment of clarity, the prince wondered what anyone nearby would make of the noises he was sure were ahead, then he ceased to care. Elladan’s body arched forcefully off the bed as he came with a shout, silvery seed spilling copiously over his stomach.

Squeezed by the intense spasms, Legolas managed a few more powerful thrusts before he climaxed, sinking his teeth into Elladan’s leg in a vain attempt to muffle the feral howl that escaped as he released. Elrohir pushed forward in one last thrust, cursing volubly as his orgasm was pulled from him.

Collapsing into a tangled pile, the trio reluctantly pulled apart, then curled tightly together, the twins cradling Legolas between them. Drawing a deep breath, the prince said softly, "I love you. I have missed having you to hold me like this the most."

"We love you, ‘Las," Elladan whispered, nipping and nuzzling Legolas' throat, a second red-purple bruise blooming softly. "We have missed this, also."

"Aye, we have," Elrohir agreed, running gentle fingers through the tangled golden hair. "Do not ever doubt that you are missed, anor nín. Without you we are only one soul."

Legolas suddenly remembered his father’s ‘two souls, but three bodies’ comment, and grinned broadly, causing questioning eyebrows to arch in tandem. Recounting the conversation in full, he snickered, "So what do you think, ‘Dan? ‘Roh? Shall we have a bed calendar? With little figures for each of us, do you think?"

"Aye, by all means," Elladan said with a grin. "It would serve your Ada right if we made one and strung it from the balcony. Bed calendar, indeed."

"Do not be so hasty, tôren," Elrohir broke in, his face sober. "It is not an entirely bad idea." As his lovers turned to stare at him in amazement, he added, "Little figures and a code of some sort." In answer to the confused looks, he explained, "You know a code...top, middle, and bottom?"

For a long moment there was absolute silence, as Elladan and Legolas sat aghast, unbelieving of what they had heard. Then suddenly Elrohir chortled delightedly, laughing until tears streamed. "Oh gods, ‘Dan," he gasped, "If you could have seen your face...and ‘Las, I thought you would keel over. Valar, that was funny. Bed calendar, hmm? It does have some promise...as a joke," he added hastily as the others turned toward him with threatening glares.

Shaking his head, Elladan said, "Someday, ‘Roh, you are going to go too far. You know that, do you not?"

"Aye," Legolas agreed, "and then we shall have to punish you, rohir nín."

"A fate I eagerly look forward to," Elrohir retorted with a smirk, causing the others to grin in spite of themselves. "But right now, I am famished, and thirsty, and I see food and wine on the table. Shall we wash and eat?"

_   
_

***************

_   
_

The three were washed, clad in leggings, and busy eating when a knock sounded at the door. Glancing quickly around the room to see that all was more or less in order, Legolas walked to the door. "Who is there, please?" he asked politely, his hand on the bolt.

"’Tis Ada, Legolas," the king replied. "Barangolas and Galueth are with me. Your sister would like to meet our guests, and is loath to wait until dinner. May we come in for a moment?"

At the mention of his sister’s insistence, Legolas snickered softly, a sound that was echoed on the other side of the door by his younger brother. With a glance at the twins, who shrugged and nodded, he threw the bolt back, opening the door. "We are not fully dressed, Ada," Legolas said, as his father’s eyes traveled briefly over his bare chest, but we are decent. We will be down shortly if you prefer Galueth not come in just now."

"Galueth has seen you shirtless before, son. I do not imagine it will traumatize her now. And I will be most thankful to hear the end of her begging," Thranduil replied with a smile, pushing the door open wider and ushering his daughter into the room.

Barangolas followed, beaming annoyingly at his elder brother. "How are you, tôren? Good afternoon, Elladan...Elrohir," he said with a grin. "I hope you are well rested?"

"Aye, we are quite well," Elrohir returned with an equally large grin, his grey eyes sparkling. "And yourself?"

"There is little to complain about,’ Barangolas said, stepping back to allow his sister’s approach. "Mind your manners," he admonished quietly, earning a glare from the elfling.

Staring in ill-concealed wonder at the identical faces before her, Galueth promptly disregarded her brother’s warning. Legolas smiled slightly at her amazement, then drew her closer. "Galueth, these are my best friends, Elladan and Elrohir."

"How do you do, híren?" Galueth said politely, as she had been taught. Then as the twins bowed their heads in greeting, the elfling blurted out, "You are both very pretty. How do you tell them apart, Golas?"

"Just now Elladan has a braid, and Elrohir does not," Legolas explained, forcing back a chuckle. "Usually Elladan will have blue beads in his braids, and Elrohir will have mithril beads in his. You need not fear confusing them."

Looking intently at the twins, Galueth suddenly fastened her attention on Elladan, stepping closer to the elder twin. "What is that on your neck?" she asked curiously, pointing at the deep purple stain below one ear.

A snort burst from Barangolas, drawing a stern glance from a suddenly nervous Thranduil. "Galueth," he began, "It is not polite..."

"’Tis alright, híren," Elladan broke in reassuringly. "It is only a bruise, little one. Have you ever fallen and marked your knee?" When Galueth nodded, he went on, "This is a bruise, much like one you might have on your knee or elbow after a fall."

"Ada can make it better," Galueth said kindly. "He always makes mine better. And he has sweets..."

"And just now he is ready to return to the courtyard," Thranduil broke in firmly. "We will see you all at dinner. And Legolas?"

"Aye, Ada?" the prince said expectantly.

"It would be best, I believe, if you wore only side braids," Thranduil answered sternly. "All of you."

_   
_

*~*~*~*~*

_   
_

el nín - my star  
anor nín - my sun  
melethen - my love  
rohir nín - my knight  
Ada, Adar - Papa, Father  
tôren - my brother  
híren - my lord(s)  


_   
_


	7. Chapter 7

"’Las, it is not necessary to do this," Elrohir said, his gaze roving over the prince warily. "You told us it was not the way of Mirkwood to make such a display. We do not wish to discomfit anyone, least of all yourself. Or Thranduil."

"I know it is not necessary, 'Roh, and I am full aware of what I said in the valley," Legolas replied. Looking at Elladan intently, he continued, "Do you remember your answer, 'Dan?"

Elladan nodded. "Aye. I said you are ours and we are yours, and that I would have that made abundantly clear to everyone, in all the realms."

"That is what we are doing tonight, and I will brook no more argument," Legolas insisted. "I will not have my lovers perused like candy in a sweet shop, and there are many here who would do just that, if my claim is not clearly made."

"You do not trust us, anor nín? I am crushed," Elrohir teased. "What must we do to prove ourselves?"

Legolas, his eyes twinkling, ran a finger over the younger twin’s mouth. "I am certain we will find some way for you to prove your loyalty, ‘Roh," he said with a smirk. "Later." His face becoming serious, he implored, "Trust me, please. I will not offend Ada with inappropriate conduct, I promise. It will likely seem no more than friendly attention to you. But we will be noticed and our relationship noted."

"And likely remarked on," Elladan added soberly. "Silence from Anteruon is an unlikely blessing."

"Aye, unlikely, indeed," Elrohir agreed. "It would be most impolite to brawl with the crown prince at Thranduil’s table, ‘Las. Are you sure this is advisable?"

"I am," Legolas answered firmly. "We are far past majority and have Ada’s support. It is not necessary for my brother to concern himself and I will tell him so. Forcefully, if need be." Slipping an arm around each of his lovers, he pulled them toward the door. "Come on, ‘Dan...’Roh," he urged with a grin. "It is time for wine...and probably fireworks."

_   
_

****************

_   
_

A wave of astounded silence rippled over the courtyard, reaching Thranduil just as the trio arrived at the bottom of the curving stairway. Turning expectantly, the king stood frozen for a long moment, eyes riveted on his son and the two who flanked him.

Though they wore black leggings, the Peredhil twins were dressed in the formal manner common in Mirkwood, their emerald green tunics worn alone, without shirts underneath. Wide collars of mithril adorned with three tokens, one of which was certainly an oak leaf, lay at their throats. Hair black and glossy as obsidian, held back by simple warrior's braids, hung nearly to their waists. Elladan’s braids were dotted with intensely blue beads of lapis lazuli, Elrohir’s with frosty mithril ovals.

Framed by such exotic darkness, Legolas seemed aglow in his garb of soft leaf green, his tunic open at the neck to reveal a silky blue layer underneath, the now-familiar mithril cuff curling around his right arm. As the prince turned his head to speak to one of his companions, Thranduil saw with a jolt that his son’s woven braids were sprinkled with blue and mithril, the beads flashing like gems in Legolas' pale gold hair.

The trio paid no heed to the effect their entrance had on the courtyard, smiling politely as they made their way past the frankly staring elves to the king’s side. As they moved through the crowd, the silence behind them was swallowed up by the murmur of many incredulous voices and the hiss of excited whispers.

Torn between amusement and annoyance, Thranduil shook his head at the trio. "This was your idea, I presume, son?" he asked, one golden eyebrow raised. "You all look very fine, though ‘tis not much short of the announcement you deemed unnecessary."

"Aye, it was indeed my idea, Ada," Legolas admitted freely. "It seemed a good way of making my point, without the impropriety you so feared." Grinning, he admitted, "Besides, it was a great deal of fun to plan."

"I can see how that might be so, young one," the king said with a chuckle. Looking closely at the mithril collars adorning the twin’s necks, he turned to Legolas with a mock frown. "So this is where the clasps of your tunic got to, is it? May I see one, please?"

Removing his collar, Elladan passed it to Thranduil. "They are mirror images, híren. Alike except for the positioning of the tokens."

Thranduil took the unexpectedly light neckpiece, studying the ornaments carefully. The golden oak leaf, flanked by the six- pointed Imladrian star and the horse-head, made as clear a statement as Legolas’ cuff. The tokens of Imladris and Mirkwood were blended exquisitely in each case.

"They are beautiful," Thranduil replied with a smile. Ignoring Elladan’s extended hand, the king carefully replaced the collar around the elder twin’s neck, pulling Elladan's hair free. Turning to include Elrohir in his gaze, he said quietly, "I do not pretend to understand, but I have long been fond of both of you, and I would have my son happy."

"As would we, your majesty," Elrohir answered, meeting the king’s eyes steadily, "and we are most grateful for your acceptance."

"Aye, we are," Elladan agreed, his intense silver gaze fastened on Thranduil, "and we will not betray your trust."

"That promise has been made and broken before, has it not?" the crown prince remarked caustically, joining the group. "Though I know not what trust there is to betray now."

"Mae govannen, Anteruon," Elladan said easily, repressing a sigh. "And there is much you do not know, I would wager. May we not dispense with the verbal sparring tonight, my prince?"

"I know enough regarding the Noldor to satisfy me, Elrondion," the eldest woodland prince replied archly. "And I do not wish to be addressed so familiarly. I am not your prince."

"A fact for which I thank the Valar daily, Anteruon," Elladan retorted, unfazed. "It was intended as a courtesy, nothing more."

"Courtesy is a subject in which you might take a lesson, Anteruon," Thranduil broke in with a frown. "It would serve you well to follow Elladan’s example. A ruler cannot always choose his company on personal whim."

Flushing slightly, the crown prince snapped, "It is a bit more than personal whim, Adar. As I said, I know enough of the Noldor to satisfy me."

"I know enough of wood-elves to satisfy me, also," Elrohir said with a grin, "Is that not so, ‘Las?"

"Indeed, it is," Legolas answered, eyes twinkling. "I have always found you to be quite satisfied with wood-elf." Turning to Anteruon, he asked, "But what Noldo have you found so satisfying, tôren? That is a story I have not heard."

"Legolas," Thranduil began warningly, raising a hand as the crown prince began to splutter, his face purple with rage. "That is quite enough-"

"It is more than enough, Adar," Anteruon snarled, his hands curling into fists. "Look at him! Tarted up like a toy to be passed between their beds! It was not insult enough that he deserted his own realm to whore for them in Imladris, no, he had to bring their depraved games here, for all of Mirkwood to witness."

Thranduil stood aghast as his eldest raved as though possessed, bitterly cursing both his brother and the Peredhil visitors. Casting a look around the king found that they had become the center of attention for those elves who had not yet gone to the eating pavilion.

His anger blinding him to both the ominous quiet that had fallen over the trio and the menacing step forward Elladan and Elrohir had taken, Anteruon continued to rant, "A prince of the realm, bedding these cursed, Noldo-born mistakes of the Valar! And then to speak to me...to _me_...in such a manner!"

The twins were somewhat restrained by being in a foreign realm, observed by its king. Legolas was free of the first constraint and disregarded the second. With a single fluid movement he pushed Anteruon backward and to the ground, heedless of the gasps of the onlookers. Straddling his brother’s chest, he grabbed Anteruon's dark gold hair and pulled, stretching the terrified prince’s neck.

To Thranduil’s horror, he realized that Legolas held a small but deadly boot-knife in his hand. "Please, Legolas," he whispered, "_please..._"

Oblivious to his father’s distress, Legolas drew his blade lightly over Anteruon’s throat, leaving a faint red line. "I should cut your throat like the beast you are," he hissed, face white with fury. "It is no matter to me, _tôren,_ what you think of my life and choices. But you have once again turned your long tongue and little wit on people and things that are very dear to me." His voice becoming dangerously calm, Legolas demanded, "I warned you before, did I not, Anteruon? You dare call my lovers mistakes? You, who have done little more in your life than whine, criticize, and dream of the throne?" His lips curling in a feral grin, Legolas asked, "What would you do now, to save yourself from my knife? Is there anyone or anything you would not betray to save your precious neck?"

_‘Las, that is enough. You have scared him enough._

_I do not wish to scare him, 'Dan. I wish to watch him bleed._

_Please, anor nín, he is unworthy of your anger._

_I will not allow him to speak so of you, ‘Roh._

_'Tis alright. We pay him no heed. Please, 'Las. Put away the blade._

Aware of the eerie silence, Thranduil started to take a step toward his sons, only to be stopped by a hand on his arm. Turning to look at Elrohir in surprise, he saw that both silver-grey gazes were locked imploringly on Legolas. _‘They are mindspeaking,’ _he realized with a start, then stood still.

_‘Las? Answer me, anor nín. You are frightening your ada, as well._

"Very well, ‘Dan...’Roh," Legolas said, seemingly answering no one. ‘For your sake." Slipping the knife back into his boot, he smiled coldly at his still trembling brother. "Do not make the mistake a third time, tôren," he advised with chilling softness, "and do not forget whose pleas saved you."

Rising slowly, Legolas walked back to Thranduil, his face grim. A quick glance passed between the twins, and they moved to assist Anteruon. The crown prince scowled and started to knock away the extended hands. Feeling his brother’s gaze, he thought better of it and accepted the offered aid.

Seeing the episode ended in an apparently friendly fashion, the few other elves lingering in the courtyard returned to their own conversations, encouraged by an imperiously raised eyebrow from the king.

Thranduil’s face was a rigid mask as he turned to Legolas and Anteruon. "I hope we shall never suffer a repeat of this episode." Drawing a deep breath he turned to the second-born prince, his face grave. "It is unconscionable to draw a weapon on another elf, Legolas, save in direct self-defense. And the penalty for kinslaying, we will not discuss. I grant you your anger, my son. But do not ever put me in such a place again. Do I make my meaning clear?"

"Aye, Ada," Legolas replied shortly, still fuming.

"Then we will speak no more of it tonight," Thranduil acknowledged grimly. Focusing his attention on Anteruon, he said, "And once again your quick tongue and lagging thought have brought you near disaster. Elladan and Elrohir are welcome guests in my realm and you, as my heir and my subject, will treat them with at least minimal courtesy."

"The Noldo deserve little more than minimal courtesy," Anteruon returned coldly, then wilted somewhat under his father’s exasperated frown.

"It is folly to hold the perceived mistakes of the past against an entire group of elves in the present," the king rebuked firmly. "Once again I am forced to remind you that _I _was there_._ _You_ were not."

Sighing, Thranduil shook his head, his eyes becoming distant in memory. "It was a tumultuous time, filled with miscommunication, and useless spite and envy among those who were called allies. And, aye, Oropher fell, as did Gil-galad, and Elendil. We had the victory, but it was a bitter triumph." His emerald eyes regaining their sharp focus, the king looked pointedly at Anteruon. "There was no leader without fault and none totally to blame. I will hear no more tonight. Do I make myself understood?"

"Aye, híren," the crown prince replied grudgingly, casting a dark look at the twins. "Perfectly understood."

"Then it is time to turn our attention to dining," Thranduil said heavily. "Come, the table is ready."

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*~*~*~*~*

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el nín - my star  
rohir nín - my knight  
anor nín - my sun  
híren - my lord  
Mae govannen - well met  
tôren - my brother

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	8. Chapter 8

A varied spread of fruits, nuts, wild greens, and many savory breads greeted the diners. Venison was the only meat served - in fact, the only meat common at any meal in Mirkwood - due to the lack of clean game animals in the forest. Most other food-flesh was garnered in trade with the men of the Esgaroth and was thus scarce.

The atmosphere at Thranduil’s table was stilted, if not overtly unpleasant. Anteruon spoke only when spoken to, much to the relief of the king. To the surprise of all, Elrohir would not allow the crown prince to withdraw completely, including him in the discussions politely but firmly.

Barangolas quietly declared the trio’s appearance a stroke of genius, and Legolas’ prediction was proven correct by the second course. Every elf present had observed and made assumptions about the relationship between their prince and the Peredhil twins. Most speculated, individually or in whispered conversation, regarding _which _of the twins was the prince’s lover...and vowed not to find out by an ill-advised approach. A few astute elves grasped the full significance of the display, broad grins slowly spreading across their awe-struck countenances.

Elladan and Elrohir were entranced by the lovely, yet informal setting of the meal. As usual in all but the most extreme weather, the wood-elves dined this night under a simple shelter of living branches, from which hung a multitude of softly glowing jar lamps.

Galueth, long accustomed to dining in the pavilion, was far more entranced by the visiting twins. Ignoring Thranduil’s frown, the elfling left her own chair and slipped confidently into Legolas’ lap, where she was clearly quite at home. Eating quietly, she studied her brother’s beaded braids for several moments without comment, then wiped her hands and face politely before hopping down. Rather than returning to her own seat, Galueth turned to the elder twin, laying a hand lightly on his arm in a bid for notice. "Lord El’dan?" she said, waiting expectantly.

Elladan bit back a chuckle, answering with equal gravity. "Aye, my Lady? How may I be of service?"

"Might I sit with you for a moment?" the princess asked solemnly. "Golas says I am quite light."

Ignoring his brother’s snicker - as well as Thranduil’s expressively arched eyebrow - Elladan smiled, settling Galueth on his knee. "You may, indeed. And ‘tis not necessary to call me ‘Lord,' little one. ‘El’dan’ will be fine."

Galueth nodded happily, fixing her gaze on Elladan’s ebony braids. "Golas is wearing your beads, too," she announced astutely, "but he also has silver ones, like Lord El’hir. They look very pretty together."

"Aye, they do. But I wear blue, and Elrohir mithril, so you can tell us apart. Legolas can wear both, because he has no twin to cause confusion," Elladan explained easily, toying with one silken mahogany plait.

Galueth reached up and pulled one braid over Elladan’s shoulder, examining it closely. "Your beads are a very pretty color, El’dan," she said wistfully, her eyes wide. "Blue like the sky."

Risking a glance at Thranduil, the elder twin found the long-suffering father shaking his head in resignation. The king answered the questioning arch of one ebony eyebrow with a slight shrug, a smile playing on his lips.

"Blue like your eyes, my Lady," Elladan corrected with a smile, "which is a beautiful color, indeed. Would you like to have a few beads for your braids? I think it would be acceptable to have two on each side."

"Aye, I would like that," Galueth answered, as Elladan untied one braid and slipped off four of the luminous lapis lazuli beads, placing them in the beaming elfling’s hand. Looking Elladan expectantly, Galueth said, "Will you fix them for me?"

"I am not sure I can manage your braids, my Lady," he replied, tying off his own hair before looking carefully at the elaborately woven tresses. "Maybe Legolas will aid you?"

"But I want mine to be like yours," the princess insisted, touching the ink-dark strands admiringly. "Please?"

"Mine are warrior’s braids," Elladan began, "’tis hardly proper..."

Thranduil broke in with a sigh. "Very little about my daughter is proper, Elladan. If she has her mind set on wearing Imladrian warrior’s braids tonight, you may as well humor her. It will be easier on us all."

Unbinding Galueth’s side-braids, Elladan quickly created the simple four-strand plaits, weaving two blue beads into each braid. Delighted with her new ornaments, the elfling hugged him tightly before jumping down. Elladan chuckled, casting a grin at Legolas, only to find his lover looking at him soberly. The solemn glance was quickly replaced by a smile, though it seemed to stop short of the troubled blue-green eyes. Reaching out impulsively, Elladan tucked a golden braid behind Legolas' ear, allowing his fingers to caress the sensitive tip, sending a thought to accompany the touch.

_I love you, anor nín. Always._

With complete disregard for propriety, Legolas interlaced his fingers with those of the elder twin, pulling the reaching hand down to rest on his own leg. His eyes less clouded, he turned his attention to Galueth, who seemingly had not yet finished for the evening.

After showing her new beads to Thranduil, she moved purposefully to the other side of Legolas, turning a glowing smile on the elf-knight. "Lord El’hir?" she piped brightly. "I have no twin, either."

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"Elladan? Elrohir? I would speak with you both for a moment," Thranduil said quietly as they left the dining pavilion, following a short distance behind the others. "I will not take much of your time."

"Our time is yours, híren," Elladan replied, inclining his head with a smile. "I do not fear that you will waste it."

"Walk with me, then," Thranduil replied. "It is a fine evening." Strolling slowly around the outer edge of the courtyard, he led them to a private area, then stopped, turning to face his guests. "I would like to apologize for Anteruon’s behavior. It was outside all bounds, and I am grateful for your restraint."

"’Tis alright, híren," Elrohir began, "We..."

"Nay, Elrohir, it is not alright," Thranduil broke in firmly, "and though there is naught that will excuse his manner, I would not have you believe he learned such attitudes at my knee. But it was my mistake, none the less. Anteruon spent much of his youth with my old tutor, who was, of course, a close friend of Adar."

Elladan nodded understandingly. "And probably a witness to his end."

"Aye, he was," the king agreed. "The stern yet compassionate man I remembered had been twisted bitterly by Adar’s fall and all that accompanied it...and his influence has left a dark imprint on my son that I have been unable to remove. I did not make the same mistake again, hence the conflict between my eldest son and his brothers is fierce at times." Smiling ruefully, he added, "And Anteruon inherited most of Oropher’s arrogance, while Legolas was cursed with much of his temper."

Elrohir looked intently at Thranduil, a smile playing on his lips. "And what of yourself, Majesty?"

Chuckling, the king retorted, "I was blessed with both arrogance and temper, young one, but I was cured of them long ago." Laying a hand on the elf-knight’s arm, he said, "I would thank you for your efforts at dinner, also. It was kind of you to include Anteruon in the merriment."

The younger twin shook his head slightly. "I was partly to blame, híren. It was my ill-advised remark that set everyone off, I fear. I want reining at times, or so I have been told."

Thranduil snorted in a most unkingly manner. "No doubt it was my son who told you so. I would also apologize for his behavior, but I wager you are somewhat accustomed to it, after all these centuries."

Breaking into a broad grin, the king finished, "Speaking of Legolas, we had best return you to his side, ere he comes searching. He has been quite unusually patient already and I have no wish to have his knife at my throat, even in thought."

Barangolas and Legolas stood at the center fountain, deep in conversation with another elf when the three stepped into view. Waving merrily, the youngest prince beckoned the others to join them.

"I shall leave you with my offspring," Thranduil announced with a smile. "I would wager that plans have been made...likely plans of which I wish to remain blissfully unaware. I bid you good evening and pleasant dreams." Raising a hand in salute to his sons, the king turned for his own chambers.

Legolas smiled, holding out a hand to each of his lovers. "I thought perhaps Ada had captured you for the evening and I should have to manage a rescue." Indicating his brother, he went on, "Barangolas has invited us to join them at the pools."

The younger prince grinned broadly, laying a hand on the arm of his other companion. "Elladan...Elrohir, this is my friend and captain, Lindel. Lind, as you may have guessed, these are the much maligned Peredhil twins. Elladan wears blue beads, Elrohir mithril."

"Mae govannen, Lord Elladan, Lord Elrohir," the red-haired elf answered formally, inclining his head respectfully.

"Mae govannen, Lindel," Elladan returned with a smile. "And if you will refrain from calling me ‘lord’, I will not call you ‘captain’, agreed? Elrohir and I have no love of formality."

"Indeed we do not, " Elrohir added. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lindel. You seem quite familiar, somehow. Have we been together in the past?"

Legolas grinned, shaking his head. "I would guess not, ‘Roh. But Lindel is Tiriadon’s brother and there is considerable likeness."

"Aye, we are alike, though Tiri would groan to hear it said," Lindel chuckled. "Please do join us. It will be quite pleasant in the caverns this evening, and the gathering small."

"We would enjoy that greatly, if ‘Las agrees?" Elrohir replied casting a questioning glance at the prince.

"Aye, we will go for a while, " Legolas said with a smile. "But I would like to change to easier garb. We will meet you there."

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"You once told us that you had better judgement than to bed the captain of your guard," Elrohir said to Legolas with a grin, as they walked toward the cavern entrance. "I take it that Barangolas does not?"

The prince snorted rudely. "Nay, he does not. Though no harm has come of it so far, I concede. Lindel is a good captain and a stout friend, and Barangolas is very fond of him. Whether there is more to it than friendly lust, I do not know."

"It is not an overly large step from friendly lust to love, though," Elladan observed thoughtfully. "Perhaps your brother will take it. But he is quite young."

"He is a bit less than four hundred years my junior, ‘Dan," Legolas retorted, one golden eyebrow arched in amusement, "and hardly an innocent, by any standards. Unless you consider yourself a cradle-robber as well?"

"The thought does cross my mind occasionally, anor nín," Elladan admitted, seemingly serious. At Legolas' surprised glance, he grinned. "Then I remember your ‘midnight snack’ in Imladris and my conscience ceases to trouble me. It was no elfling who woke me that night, was it, ‘Roh?"

Elrohir smirked at the memory. "Nay, it was not, el nín. Though he seemed quite innocent in slumber afterward, did he not? And he blushed very sweetly the next morning...just as he is now."

"Enough of that!" Legolas said warningly, his face burning. "Behave yourselves, or I will turn this crowd loose on you."

"So you _are_ taking us to be ogled like candy in a sweet shop?" Elladan teased, eyes twinkling. "I suspected as much."

"I am," Legolas admitted freely, with a dazzling smile. "But I will be there no see that there is no unauthorized tasting."

"I assume Anteruon will not be present?" Elrohir queried as they reached the caverns’ mouth.

Legolas snickered quietly. "Nay, it is hardly his type of gathering. He usually returns Galueth to her chambers after dinner, and then is off on his own adventures, though I have heard it said he has a fondness for my sister’s nanny. He is not altogether offensive at times, so who..."

The prince’s voice dropped off as they passed through the arched opening into the dimly lit caves.

A large central room was hung with rows of clothing hooks, and several benches were placed around the space, creating a convenient place to undress. A large rack of towels hung on each wall, allowing the patrons to cover themselves after stripping.

Tossing towels to his companions, Legolas quickly shed his light leggings and shirt, tying a towel loosely around his waist. "Ready for your unveiling?" he asked with a grin, placing a possessive hand on each of his lovers. "Barangolas and Lindel will be in the smallest room."

Leading the way into one of the many chambers that opened off the main room, the prince quickly located his younger brother, lounging in a pool at the back of the area. "Rinse of the dust, tôren, and join us," Barangolas called with a wave. "I have glasses for you."

"He has glasses for us?" Elladan asked curiously, dropping his towel before moving under the water streaming from a rinsing trough. "Dare I ask why?"

Chuckling, Legolas dried his face, then answered, "For mead. Barangolas and Lindel always supply mead for such gatherings, as Lind’s father brews it to sell. We were really supposed to bring our own goblets if we wished to drink, but my brother can usually be counted on to bring a few extra."

The prince slid into the large pool, urging the twins down on either side of him. They were greeted warmly by Lindel and Barangolas, and introduced to the other four elves who shared the pool. Wooden torches flickered around the edge of the room, lending a warm glow to the steaming water. The water was soothingly heated in contrast to the pleasant coolness of the underground cavern, the company was enjoyable, and the mead was found to be of excellent quality.

Relaxed and comfortable, Elrohir closed his eyes with a sigh, leaning back lazily in the chest-deep water. His eyes flew open in amazement, a short while later, as teasing fingers slid first over his stomach, then dropped to his thighs, drawing slow circles that moved closer and closer to his quickly developing erection.

Turning his head to stare in disbelief at Legolas, he found himself caught in a sparkling emerald green gaze. Elrohir grasped the exploring hand firmly and appealed to the suddenly predatory elf beside him.

_’Las, what are you doing?_

_I would have thought that rather obvious, rohir nín._

_We are in Mirkwood, in a public bath, with your brother, for the love of Elbereth! You are drunk, anor nín._

Legolas smiled sweetly, pulling the restraining hand over to rest on his own raging arousal.

_But not to the point of dysfunction, hmm?_

Glancing around the pool, Elrohir found that only Barangolas and Lindel remained, curled around one another in a way that left them little room to complain of Legolas’ behavior. Relaxing somewhat, he leaned over and whispered softly, "It would be much more comfortable in your chambers, 'Las. And the night has but begun."

The prince’s smile broadened as he turned his head to nuzzle Elrohir’s throat gently. "Aye, but this night will be no shorter for beginning it here," he retorted teasingly, lifting his hips to rub against the captive hand.

Elrohir drew a deep breath, looking imploringly at his twin. Elladan arched both eyebrows helplessly, his straining arms evidence of his own struggle with a wandering hand. "’Las," Elladan began in quiet desperation, "Do you not think it unwise..."

The entreaty was interrupted by a poorly muffled moan and gasping breaths from across the pool, which drew an audible snort from Legolas, as well as astounded glances - quickly replaced by brilliant smirks - from the twins.

Several moments passed in silence, broken only by an occasional hiss or smothered chuckle, before Barangolas and Lindel rose from the pool. Smiling composedly at the entangled trio, the youngest prince said, "I hope your first night in Mirkwood is pleasant, my friends. We will bid you good evening now."

Flickering his emerald green glance between the twins, Barangolas added, "This pool is quite private, and others seldom come here in the evening, as it is known to be the site of our gatherings. Do not hesitate to make yourselves at home."

Nodding silently in farewell, Elladan and Elrohir watched the two elves leave with ill-concealed amusement. The elder twin returned his attention to Legolas, who was now grinning widely. "I thought you said there would be no tasting," Elladan said teasingly, lavishly licking an ear tip. "Any excuses?"

"Nay, ‘Dan," Legolas retorted, his face determinedly solemn despite his shudders. "It was _unauthorized_ tasting that I vowed to prevent. This is fully authorized and quite enjoyable."

"Indeed?" Elrohir smirked, rubbing his palm lightly over the prince’s hard shaft. "And what else might you find enjoyable, 'Las?"

Hissing in pleasure, Legolas arched toward the stroking hand, digging his fingers into the elf-knight’s arm. "I would enjoy my favorite twin benefit," the prince purred, lifting himself to sit on the edge of the pool. "Two mouths. On me."

Elladan raised one eyebrow in teasing reproach, his darkened grey eyes sparkling. "So demanding, anor nín. And where would you have those mouths?"

"Everywhere," Legolas breathed, tugging impatiently at both his lovers. "Come up here. Now."

Raising themselves from the pool, the twins stretched out fluidly beside their prince, tongues moving in wicked unison as they licked, nuzzled, and nipped Legolas into a state of excruciating pleasure.

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Thranduil removed his leggings slowly, only partially aware of his surroundings. His distress over the evening’s conflict only slightly resolved, his mind was awash with thoughts of disaster averted and issues still raging. _'What if Legolas had lost control? What if the Peredhil twins had erupted at the insults? What shall I do with my bull-headed eldest son? Will he ever be fit to rule?’_

Wrapping himself in a towel, the king headed absently for a private pool, wishing to be alone with his thoughts, though he had been unable to bear the confines of his chambers. Moving instinctively through the seemingly empty caverns, his mind occupied, he took several steps into the smallest room before becoming aware of his error.

Thranduil did not mean to intrude. He did not mean to stare. The functioning part of his mind screamed _‘Move, for Elbereth’s sake. Leave. Now!’_ His body, however, refused to obey. Caught in the same trance which often caused soldiers to stare at the carnage of a battle ended, he gaped in amazement at the scene playing out before him.

Legolas lay stretched on the floor of the chamber, his unbound hair shimmering like gold in the torchlight. His body was liberally covered with rosy purple marks, visible even in the dim light of the cavern, his fingers laced firmly in the silken ebony locks that streamed over his writhing form.

A dark head moved languidly from one pierced nipple to the other, teeth tugging sharply, to be followed by a tongue lapping soothingly at the over-sensitive peaks. Another was visible between Legolas' thighs, moving rhythmically below the strong forearm that anchored the prince’s hips.

Thranduil stood rooted, unable to tear his eyes away as Legolas tossed his head mindlessly, whimpering moans and unintelligible pleas increasing steadily. _‘You must not see this! This is your son!’_ the coherent part of his brain screamed in a last desperate plea and his body finally stirred to answer, allowing a silent step of retreat...but it was too late.

With a keening cry Legolas arched into a perfect bow, shuddering in an obviously brain-fogging release that left him limp and breathless. As the twins moved up to nuzzle his flushed face, one pair of midnight-dark eyes locked on the slowly retreating king, meeting the wide emerald gaze in recognition. Thranduil stopped dead, recognizing the futility of flight.

Dropping his head to the crook of Legolas’ neck, Elrohir was unsure whether to laugh or scream. Deciding to take a conservative approach, he whispered, "’Las, we have company."

Still bemused after his explosive climax, Legolas turned his head to press a lingering kiss to the elf-knight’s mouth. "Company?" he repeated docilely. "What sort of company?"

Elladan glanced up sharply as the whispered entreaty reached him, allowing the ear he had been nibbling to slide from his mouth in disbelief. "The difficult sort, anor nín. It is your father, or else I am caught in a nightmare."

Focus returned with admirable swiftness to the widened blue-green eyes. "Ada is here? In this room?" As the twins nodded mutely, Legolas closed his eyes for a long moment. Sitting up gracefully, he reached for a towel, tossing the others to his companions. "This is an unanticipated visit, Ada," Legolas said, in a triumph of understatement.

"It was an unanticipated sight, son," Thranduil managed, rubbing his hand wearily over his eyes, "and I have suddenly lost my urge to bathe."

"We are quite finished here, híren," Elrohir interjected. "We will leave you in peace."

The king turned his intense emerald gaze on the elf-knight, then on Elladan. "It appears to me, young one, that you are rather less than half finished. But I would advise that you reconvene in a more secluded area. Such as your chambers."

Raising one eyebrow in a veritable whirlwind of unspoken comment, Thranduil added, "I will speak with you tomorrow. All of you. In my study. After breakfast." Walking away, the king looked back and added, "Pleasant dreams."

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*~*~*~*~*

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anor nín - my sun  
híren - my lord  
Mae govannen - well met  
el nín - my star  
tôren - my brother  
rohir nín - my knight  
Ada, Adar - Papa, Father

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	9. Chapter 9

The second-born prince’s bed-chamber was rife with a volatile mixture of grudgingly suspended lust and restless apprehension. Despite his calm demeanor in the caverns, Legolas himself was obviously distressed and pacing the room like a caged beast.

Elrohir threw himself across the bed heavily, his still damp hair brushing the floor. "What will he do, ‘Las?" he asked musingly. "It would seem we are not to be banished, or surely he would not have sent us up here."

"How should I know what he will do?" Legolas retorted sharply, casting an annoyed glance at the younger twin. "It is a new experience for Ada, thankfully. And for me, also."

"Whereas we often couple in the caverns of Mirkwood?" Elladan interjected, one elegant eyebrow lifted wryly. "Pull in your claws, 'Las. It will solve nothing to shred ‘Roh alive."

"There is no profit in idle questions, either," Legolas flung back bitingly, aware he was being unreasonable, but unable to restrain himself. "Perhaps Ada is granting you a last tumble, and will banish you come the morning."

Elladan’s eyes narrowed ominously. "It would seem you do not think that such a bad thing, from your tone."

"That is all you ever agreed to, is it not, Elladan?" Legolas snapped. "Your quick tumble has gone awry, I fear."

"Your temper has robbed you of your reason, ‘Las," Elrohir interrupted mildly. "We did not-"

"No, _we_ did not, ‘Roh," Legolas retorted, the facade he had carefully constructed since dinner - supported by copious amounts of wine and mead - beginning to crumble under the strain of the evening. "It was _you._ ‘Dan was merely dragged along..." Legolas’ voice trailed off as he turned an indecipherable gaze on Elladan, who stood gaping at him, then strode quickly onto the balcony, pushing the door closed with a thud.

"What in the name of Elbereth was that in aid of?" Elrohir asked in astonishment, his brow furrowed as he turned to his equally confused brother.

Meeting his twin’s eyes, Elladan shook his head helplessly. "I have no notion, rohir nín," he replied soberly, "but I intend to find out."

Elladan moved to the balcony door, only to find it held closed from the other side. "Open the door, ‘Las," he ordered quietly, then waited, receiving no response from outside. Still speaking softly, he said, "I know you can hear me, anor nín. You are an elf, after all." No answer was forthcoming, so he added more insistently, "If you do not loose the door Legolas, I swear I will cut it through. Will you not at least tell me what I have done?"

There was a long pause, during which Elladan reached reluctantly for his sword, then suddenly the door swung open under his hand. Breathing a sigh of relief, he stepped onto the balcony, closing the door once more. Elladan looked around warily to find Legolas standing at the edge of the platform, staring up at the stars through the waving branches. "That is a fearsome drop, ‘Las," he said lightly. "Do not stand too close."

"Wood-elves do not fall from trees, my friend," Legolas answered without turning around.

Forcing back a stab of pain at the casual ‘my friend,' Elladan replied softly, "But the less agile races may, and I would not choose to end our acquaintance in a heap at the foot of this tree. Sit down with me, please, anor nín. I do not know what I have done, but if you will tell me, I will do my best to make amends."

Legolas turned clouded eyes on his lover, a sober smile touching his face. "It is nothing you have done, el nín."

Somewhat encouraged by the endearment, Elladan sank to the floor, patting the space beside himself. "Here, ‘Las. I am tired, and still reeling from the caverns. Just sit down and tell me what this is all in aid of, so we can go to bed. Please."

Dropping reluctantly to the platform, Legolas leaned against the wall, resting his arms on his pulled up knees. Never turning to look at Elladan, he said, "You told me once, in Imladris, that ‘Roh had talked you into bedding me."

"Aye," Elladan admitted cautiously, "he did. But I believe there was more to that conversation than you are quoting. I also said it was the best idea he has had in two millennia."

"You did," Legolas agreed. After a moment’s silence, he went on quietly. "Glorfindel told me that you and ‘Roh did occasionally take another lover." In answer to an interrogating eyebrow, he replied, "I asked him. Did you ever choose a maid, ‘Dan? As the third?"

"A few times, aye," Elladan answered slowly. "’Las, I don't-"

In an apparent change of subject, Legolas broke in swiftly, "Galueth was quite taken with you this evening at dinner. She can be overly determined."

"She was rather sweet," Elladan chuckled. "I did not mind."

"I could see that," the prince agreed soberly, his eyes probing Elladan's face. "You appeared to enjoy yourself a great deal. And you were quite good with her."

Turning the full force of his silvery gaze on Legolas, Elladan said, "I begin to see where this is going, unless you intend to accuse me of having inappropriate thoughts about an elfling."

"Nay, of course not!" Legolas replied, obviously appalled. "But I have only this night realized that you may have preferred a maid as your third. It would explain your reluctance to approach me and I can understand, after seeing you with Galueth. It would allow you to have elflings of your own, ‘Dan, and you looked so _right _sitting there cuddling her-"

"Listen to me, Legolas," Elladan interrupted firmly. "It is true that Elrohir first thought to approach you, and that I was unsure..." As the prince opened his mouth to speak, it was gently covered by a strong hand. "Be quiet, anor nín, and listen," Elladan repeated, lowering his hand when Legolas nodded. "But my unease was not because I did not desire you, it was because I feared you would not understand our twin-bond, and I did not wish to risk our friendship. Valar’s wisdom, Legolas, think! Have you forgotten what passed between us this afternoon?"

As Legolas shook his head, Elladan went on earnestly, "It is true that ‘Roh and I have bedded the occasional maid, together and apart, but our choice - _my _choice - was made long centuries past. You did not force me to settle for a male, ‘Las. You are the reward for a choice made long ago."

"But perhaps you did not think it through," Legolas began slowly, his face still pensive, though there was a flicker of relief in his eyes.

Sighing deeply, Elladan said, "I am Peredhel, anor nín." He smiled ruefully. "I have some small understanding of choices and consequences, yes?"

The sparkle returning to his eyes, Legolas nodded slowly, "Aye, I suppose you do, at that." Suddenly sober once more, he continued, "I am sorry, 'Dan. You must think me foolish, to entertain such thoughts. But I was so afraid you had not chosen freely."

Leaning over, Elladan pressed a soft kiss to his lover's down-turned mouth. "Nay, you are far from foolish, ‘Las. But you do still think too much. And _I_ think my sister and your brother will provide us all with elflings aplenty to cosset and spoil." Breaking into a grateful grin, he asked, "Now can we please go to bed?"

Rising gracefully from the platform, Legolas reached down a helping hand to Elladan, pulling him easily to his feet. "Are you so very tired, ‘Dan?" he asked with a teasing smile, pulling his lover snugly against his body. Feeling intoxicated by sheer relief, he whispered, "It would be a shame to drift off too early."

"I think I may be convinced to remain awake," Elladan replied, burying his nose in silky golden tresses, "with sufficient incentive."

"Then I shall see that you have it," Legolas promised, leading Elladan back into the bed-chamber.

Elrohir sat up expectantly as his lovers entered the room, relief washing over him at the sight of their smiling faces. Legolas walked directly to the elf-knight. "I am sorry, rohir nín," he said. "I should not have snapped at you so. Forgive me, please."

"’Tis alright," Elrohir answered, clasping the prince’s hand. "You had much on your mind."

"Aye, I did," Legolas agreed, "But we will speak of it later. ‘Dan is very tired, it seems, and requires some enticement to stay alert."

"Does he, indeed?" Elrohir smirked, glancing at his grinning brother. "And I suppose you are to provide this attention?"

"I thought you might aid me in that," Legolas returned, smiling at the look of surprise that flickered across Elrohir’s features. "It is hardly fair that I should be the only one to enjoy twin benefits, do you think?"

"That would depend," Elrohir replied, his expression serious.

Legolas looked at him in confusion. "Depend on what, ‘Roh?"

Breaking into a dazzling grin, the elf-knight snickered, "On whether or not he will promise to stay awake long enough to return the favor."

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_  
_

Elladan tossed his head restlessly, his pupils dilated hugely, his fingers grasping convulsively at the silken hair trailing teasingly over his chest and stomach. He had never known such sensation before, the pleasure so intense, so many-layered, that it was nearly pain.

Though reason - long since fled - would have surely told him there could only be two mouths and four hands, his over-sensitized body twitched and arched as though beset by an army of tormentors. Far past comprehensible speech, he instead pleaded silently, his thoughts broken by moans and whimpers.

_Please, anor nín...I cannot...I need..._

Legolas raised his head slowly, running his tongue lightly up Elladan's weeping erection, tracing the throbbing vein. "But of course you can, melethron," he purred, one hand slipping down to tease his lover's entrance as the other drew slow circles on Elladan’s twitching stomach. "’Tis naught but what you have done to me, many times over."

Elrohir let the mithril nipple ring slip from his mouth, his tongue and teeth tracing a wandering path to his brother’s throat, where he bit down sharply, causing Elladan to gasp in welcome pain as the pale flesh turned first red, then blue as it was nipped and licked repeatedly. Raining a trail of soft kisses, the elf knight moved up to study his twin’s face, taking in the darkened eyes and the flushed skin, gleaming with a fine sheen of moisture. Brushing back a few strands of raven-dark hair soothingly, Elrohir rubbed his cheek over Elladan’s, a caress as old as their bond. "You are beautiful, tôren," he breathed, his lips ghosting over his brother's before claiming them in a searing kiss.

Elladan's soft groan drew Legolas’ attention and he lifted his eyes, his mouth never faltering in its rhythmic movements on the engorged shaft. Entranced, as always, by the raw sensuality of his twins together, Legolas shuddered slightly as he slicked two fingers and pushed them into Elladan’s body, firmly stroking his lover from within.

Pulling away from Elrohir’s mouth, Elladan panted helplessly, trembling on the edge of release. The elf-knight quickly moved his mouth to a flushed ear-tip, suckling and nipping at it gently as his hand moved to toy with the mithril ring. Overwhelmed by the multiple sensations, Elladan’s body tightened forcibly and he spilled with a wordless howl.

Legolas allowed the softening shaft to slide from his mouth and moved up to press a smoky-sweet kiss to Elladan's lips. Dropping his head to nuzzle his lover's sweat-damp neck, he bit down gently, sucking until a deep purple oval appeared under the marks of his teeth. "I love you," he whispered.

Legolas raised his head to find himself caught in Elrohir’s midnight-dark gaze. Reaching over Elladan’s boneless body, he curled his hand around the elf-knight’s straining length, his thoughts reaching out sensually.

_Might you need some help with that, rohir nín?_

_That would be most appreciated, 'Las._

Elrohir hissed as the warm hand closed around him, then wrapped his own fist snugly about the prince’s slick shaft, stroking in an ever-increasing rhythm. Pushed almost to the edge by their long play, both quickly reached climax, their release mingling as it spilled over Elladan’s stomach.

Curling snugly together, the trio lay quietly for some moments, the silence broken only by harsh breathing. Eventually Legolas stretched indolently, then rose and went into the bathing chamber, returning with a warm, wet towel. The prince gently wiped the traces from Elladan’s stomach before cleaning Elrohir and then himself.

Shaken from his bemused state by the warm cloth, Elladan gazed at Legolas in near-awe. "That was...I cannot...it was indescribable," he said haltingly, his usually quick tongue failing him completely.

Legolas pressed a soft kiss to the end of Elladan’s nose, then asked curiously, "Has no one ever thought to do this before?"

Shaking his head slowly, Elrohir answered for his twin. "Nay, no one. We have always been the instigators, never the object of such play." Glancing appraisingly over his brother’s bite and bruise-marked form, he added, "Perhaps we should have asked, though."

Legolas turned a predatory smirk on Elrohir. "There is no need to ask tonight, rohir nín. ‘Tis your turn."

What followed was ever-after blurred in the elf-knight’s mind...jumbled into an overwhelming array of erotic scenes, held together by the thread of agonizing pleasure that twined through them all. There were warm mouths everywhere - pillaging his own mouth, marking his skin, tugging and lapping at his peaked nipples and the mithril ring, engulfing his throbbing arousal. And hands. There seemed an endless number of hands, some gentle, others enticingly demanding as they replaced and joined and preceded the voracious mouths. Nothing in his long history of carnal exploits had prepared him for the sensations that wracked his body, nor for the ease with which his pride was surrendered, leaving him whimpering and begging for completion. When release came, it fell on him like a storm, his body shuddering uncontrollably as he let go a shout that was surely heard all over the Halls.

In a blissful haze, he was only partly aware of his lovers movements as they, too, reached completion, then snuggled against his still-quaking body. Long moments later, Elrohir turned a questioning gaze on Legolas. "We do that to you, ‘Las?" he asked, his voice tinged with wonder.

One golden eyebrow arched in amusement, the prince replied, "Aye, you do."

Elrohir shook his head slowly, remaining silent for a moment. With a slight curl of his lips, he admitted, "I do not know whether to apologize, or to demand that you drop to your knees and worship me."

Legolas chuckled softly, then pressed a gentle kiss to Elrohir’s forehead. "Do not apologize," he said simply. "I love you, rohir nín."

Slipping easily between the twins, Legolas carefully spread the rumpled bedcovers over them all, then closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep nearly as soon as his exhausted lovers.

_  
_

*********************

_  
_

The sky showing above the walls was the smoky grey of pre-dawn when Elladan next awoke. He stretched carefully, so as not to wake the others, then glanced around the dimly lit room. The coals in the fire-bowl were still glowing, so likely there would be hot water immediately available, he mused. Only the occasional call of a night-bird and the irregular squeak of moving branches broke the stillness. As he settled back onto his pillow, Legolas stirred restlessly, pressing closer. Elladan smiled, burying his nose in the tangled golden strands nestled under his chin. Breathing in the woodsy, sunlit scent he carefully ran his fingers through the silken mass, loosing the snarls gently.

When the length of the prince’s hair was smoothed, Elladan continued to toy with it absently, twisting the shimmering tresses into a thick rope, the ends lightly grazing Legolas' bare back. The prince mumbled in his sleep, sliding one long leg over his lover, as though seeking to hold him still.

Elladan shifted under the weight of the rogue leg, succeeding only in bringing his own thigh in contact with a familiar hardness. Drawing a deep breath, he tried to ignore the sensation, but his body heartily approved and he found himself suddenly and quite seriously aroused.

Unable to resist the temptation of the perfectly pointed ear nestled against his face, Elladan flicked his tongue lightly over the edge, then took the tip in his mouth suckling it gently. His eyes still shut tight, Legolas purred softly, turning his head to allow Elladan better access, his hips pushing instinctively forward.

Groaning as his aching length was brushed by another, Elladan gave in, capturing his lover’s mouth in a long, molten kiss. Pulling away, he found himself regarded by twinkling emerald eyes.

"Good morning, el nín," Legolas murmured. "Are you rested so early?"

"Indeed I am," Elladan twin replied, moving his hands down Legolas' back, pressing their bodies together, "and it has occurred to me that should I be banished this day, I will have been deprived of my final tumble."

Shaking his head gravely, Legolas said, "It would be a shame to leave here so deprived." His lips twitching threateningly, the prince added, "Shall I wake ‘Roh? ‘Tis unfair that he should miss his, also."

"I suppose we must," Elladan answered, his eyes glowing with merriment.

Turning to Elrohir, Legolas dropped light kisses on the elf-knight's closed eyelids, tracing the hard lines of his chest with teasing fingers. As the silver-grey eyes fluttered open, Legolas smiled down at his lover, his hand wandering from chest to stomach, outlining the corded muscles. "Good morning, rohir nín," the prince whispered, pressing a warm kiss to Elrohir's mouth. "Would you care for a final tumble before banishment?"

"It would definitely be a comfort," Elrohir answered jokingly, hissing suddenly as the exploring fingers closed around his semi- erect shaft, stroking him quickly to full hardness. "In a hurry this morning, are we, anor nín?" he gasped, thrusting reflexively toward the firm grip.

"Aye," Legolas breathed, rubbing his own groin against Elrohir’s side. "It is but a short time until breakfast, and we shall have to bathe." Breaking into a grin, he added, "Besides, ‘Dan and I have been awake for some minutes."

Rolling over, Elrohir pushed Legolas onto his back, kissing him thoroughly. "I suspected as much," he teased, his darkened eyes sparkling. "I am but half a cinnamon-bun in your eyes."

Legolas laughed delightedly. "Waiting to be spread with honey-butter?" he asked, sliding his hands through tousled ebony locks before turning a twinkling glance on Elladan. "I believe ‘Dan is quite tired of waiting."

"He is, indeed," Elladan agreed, reaching blindly for the oil that had been left on the night table. Pouring a generous puddle in Legolas’ hand, he then drizzled oil over his own hand, slicking himself with a growl of pleasure.

Rising to his knees, Elrohir leaned forward, gripping the headboard for support, pushing back toward Legolas in obvious invitation. Moving close behind the elf-knight, Legolas grasped his hips in slippery hands, pushing into the tight channel with a breathless moan. Pressing his chest to Elrohir's back, he reached urgently for Elladan.

Elladan quickly molded his body to Legolas', groaning as his shaft rubbed tantalizingly along the oil-slick crease. Grasping his lover's hips to steady them, he sheathed himself completely in one forceful thrust, drawing a strangled oath from Legolas. Remaining motionless, Elladan ran a soothing hand over Legolas' back. "Are you alright?" he asked worriedly. "Have I hurt you?"

"I am fine," Legolas hissed through gritted teeth. "Just _move_."

Elladan managed a few languid thrusts before he could no longer ignore his own urgent need and set a rapidly increasing rhythm, each of his movements pounding the prince deeply into Elrohir. Legolas gave in to the controlling rhythm, draping himself over the elf-knight’s back, allowing the powerful thrusts to move his own body. Whimpering in pleasure, he wrapped his hand around Elrohir’s weeping arousal, fisting it in time with the increasingly erratic thrusts.

"Oh, gods," Elladan panted, digging his fingers into Legolas' hips, "I am...going to..." Throwing back his head with a howl, he thrust forward savagely, spilling deep inside his lover.

Even as Legolas felt the liquid warmth spread inside, Elrohir released over his pumping hand, nearly sobbing as shivers wracked his body. Pushing into the caressing warmth, Legolas reached his peak with a hoarse cry, the heat of his release drawing a groan from Elrohir.

Collapsing in a tangled heap, they lay quietly for a long moment, before Elrohir - trapped on the bottom of the pile - spoke up. "I need to breathe, and the both of you are quite heavy. Might we spread a bit?"

Elladan snickered and moved to the side. Pulling Legolas down to lie between them, he threw a possessive leg over the prince. Sounds of outside life soon began to trickle into the chamber, and Legolas sat up with a grimace. "It is getting near breakfast time and we need to bathe. It would not be in our best interest to appear in Ada’s study like this."

"Like what?" Elrohir asked with feigned innocence. "Naked?"

_  
_

*~*~*~*~*

_  
_

anor nín - my sun  
rohir nín - my knight  
el nín - my star  
melethron - lover  
tôren - my brother

_  
_


	10. Interlude II - Conversation with the King

Legolas stared in apparent fascination at the richly carved edge of Thranduil’s desk. The prince stood as a warrior awaiting inspection, his legs slightly apart, hands behind his back. To each side one of the twins stood in a similar stance, though both seemed inordinately engrossed in the simple pattern woven into the ceiling of the king’s study.

Bathed, dressed, and modestly braided, the trio appeared the very picture of upright virtue and respectability.

Thranduil was not amused. "It was inexcusable behavior, Legolas," he said sternly, his intimidating emerald gaze fixed on his second son. "Have you any words?"

"I have no excuse, save over-indulgence in mead, híren," Legolas replied formally.

Elladan risked a glance at the king and found himself under scrutiny. As one golden eyebrow lifted in silent question, the elder twin met Thranduil’s gaze and inquired, "Permission to speak, Majesty?" Receiving a nod, he offered, "It was never our intent to discomfit you in any way. We regret the incident deeply, híren."

"I do not doubt the truth of _that_ statement. Your intent was quite obvious, and had nothing to do with me," the king retorted with what might have been considered a snort, were the topic of conversation less serious. "And exactly what is it that you are regretting, Elladan?" Thranduil inquired, his eyebrow rising even higher. "Your actions, or my appearance in the cavern?"

"_Ada!_" Legolas broke in, too astounded by the audacity of the question to maintain his respectful demeanor. "That is hardly appropriate..."

"Be quiet, son," Thranduil said firmly, but without rancor. "It would be hard to find a question less appropriate than what I witnessed." Returning his attention to the elder twin, he prompted, "Well, Elladan?"

"I regret the distress caused to yourself, híren, and I realize the caverns are perhaps not the proper setting for such play," Elladan answered carefully, acutely aware that the object of said play stood beside him, armed with a boot-knife and blessed with a ferocious temper. "But, nay, I do not regret my actions."

Thranduil’s lips twitched slightly, almost unnoticeably, before he replied, "You are certainly Elrond's son, young one. Ever the diplomat, yes?" Focusing his attention on Elrohir, he asked pointedly, "Is it common practice in Imladris these days to couple beside a bathing pool?"

"Nay, híren, it is not common practice," Elrohir replied shortly, struggling vainly to smother memories raised by the inquiry.

_But it is not unheard of either, is it, ‘Las?_

Legolas stifled a snicker, his cheeks coloring slightly.

_Hush, ‘Roh. That was a matter of comfort._

Elrohir risked a quick glance at the prince, his eyes twinkling.

_It was rather more than comfortable, to my memory, anor nín._

Thranduil sighed heavily. "It is most impolite, not to mention unwise, to mindspeak during a lecture from an affronted ruler, younglings."

"Forgive me, híren," Elrohir began, a decidedly devilish gleam in his eye. "I only said such coupling was not common practice, but..."

Taking in the blazing cheeks and wide eyes of his son, the king raised a hand, interrupting the admission. "It is not necessary to supply details, Elrohir. ‘Tis impolite to mindspeak...it would be foolhardy to elaborate." Thranduil raised one hand to forestall any comment. "Such things are not done in Mirkwood," he said, drawing disbelieving glances from all three miscreants. "I do not mean to criticize the ways of other realms, but they are not ours, as Legolas well knows."

The well-informed second prince bit back a retort, keeping his face carefully neutral. Elladan and Elrohir remained entranced by the ceiling, the fractional raising of identical ebony eyebrows their only response.

Misreading the silence as abashed agreement, Thranduil continued with growing magnanimity. "The elves here are more reserved about such matters, perhaps due to our long years of near-isolation. Seldom is any show of affection made in public, save among elflings." Fixing his now-earnest gaze on the twins, he said, "It would be unthinkable for a resident of Mirkwood, even the coarsest warrior, to instigate such an act in a public place. It is..."

"’Tis absolute spider-dung, Ada," Legolas interjected, no longer able to restrain himself.

_What in Arda are you doing, ‘Las? Let it go!_

Ignoring Elladan’s incredulous response, Legolas kept his attention fixed firmly on Thranduil, whose eyes had narrowed dangerously. "Would you care to elaborate?" the king asked with frightening calm.

Swallowing hard, Legolas replied, "It was not their fault, Ada, and I would not have ‘Dan and ‘Roh - much less Imladris - blamed for a mistake of my making. They even tried to dissuade me."

The king pinned his son with an intense emerald glare. "You have a long history of coupling in public places, Legolas? Such that you would need to be discouraged from doing so?"

"Nay, Ada," the prince answered, drawing a deep breath. "But this was hardly the first time the caverns have been witness to such activity. There have been gatherings there for many years, of Mirkwood elves and guests alike, always in the smallest chamber. It is generally known and..."

Thranduil’s eyebrows reached new heights as he carefully digested this unexpected information. "It is generally known? _What _is generally known? That one risks tripping over a pile of rutting elves if he enters the caverns after dark?"

Elrohir broke in quietly. "If I may speak, híren?" Receiving a frigid nod from the king, he explained, "I believe that common wisdom reports that the gatherings take place and are somewhat ribald affairs, nothing more. As you said yourself last eve, Majesty, there are things of which you wish to remain blissfully unaware. I am sure the same may be said for many members of your court."

"’Roh is likely correct, híren," Elladan added soothingly. "There was surely no deliberate attempt to deceive. It would seem that you did not wish to know, so the subject never arose."

Inclining his head in at least partial acceptance of this explanation, Thranduil focused his attention once more on his son. In conversational tones, he asked, "And for just how long have I been blissfully unaware of these festivities, Legolas?"

Legolas mumbled something incomprehensible, suddenly fascinated by the toe of his left boot.

"I beg your pardon? I am afraid I could not quite understand you," Thranduil persisted.

Seemingly entranced by his own tunic clasps, the prince began, "Ada, surely it is not necessary..."

Thranduil drew himself up to his full height. Placing both hands on his desk, he leaned toward his second-born son. "How long?" he repeated, in a voice that brooked no argument.

Raising his eyes to meet an intense emerald gaze, Legolas winced, but answered truthfully, nonetheless. "About 500 years, híren."

The king’s reply was heard throughout the Halls.

"_Legolas!_"

  


*~*~*~*~*

  


híren - my lord  
anor nín - my sun  


  



	11. Chapter 11

No one was more surprised than Elrohir himself when the words left his mouth. "Anteruon! Do not be so stiff-necked, my friend. Come join us."

While reprimanding Legolas and the twins the previous week, Thranduil had suggested - in no uncertain terms - that they spend their energy sparring at the training ground, rather than rutting in the caverns. Thus their presence there, and Elrohir’s unexpected words.

Legolas, locked in a lost weapon match with Elladan, stopped dead to stare at Elrohir, causing his opponent to nearly skewer him with a sword thrust. Barangolas and Tiriadon turned to look at the younger twin in amazement, their hand-to-hand bout forgotten. Lindel - nursing a strained wrist suffered on patrol - glanced curiously from Elrohir, who was lounging at one side of the practice field, to Anteruon, who stood on a second-level platform overlooking the open area.

Anteruon was still for a moment, then shook his head slowly. Eyeing his brother closely, Legolas seemed to catch the barest hint of...regret? Longing? Drawing a deep breath, he added his own invitation to Elrohir’s. "Aye, tôren, join us," he said. "We are short an elf, as Lind’s wrist is still healing."

"I do not think-" Anteruon began stiffly, but he was quickly forestalled by a teasing challenge from Elladan.

"We will go easy on you. Come, spar with us." Indicating Barangolas with a mischievous grin, the elder twin added, "Perhaps you will have better luck than your little brother."

Taking a playful swipe at Elladan, Barangolas chuckled, "Aye, come and try, Anteruon. You have not trained with us in many years."

A brief smile flitted over the crown prince’s features. "I suppose I have not. I will join you."

Descending the stairs to the practice field, Anteruon looked uncertainly at the good-humored group. "Quit stalling," Legolas prodded with a friendly smile. "Strip off that tunic and we shall see how you fare against ‘Roh in hand-to-hand tactics." His smile widening, the prince cast a teasing glance at Elrohir and continued, "But I warn you, he is skilled at close combat."

_Among other things, hmm?_

_Aye, but those skills are not for public demonstration, rohir nín._

Removing his tunic, Anteruon looked uneasily from Legolas to Elrohir. Noticing his brother’s discomfort, Barangolas said, "Never mind them, tôren. It is something you quickly become accustomed to witnessing." Grinning at Legolas, he added, "Our sibling must constantly be reminded that mindspeaking in company is _rude_."

"Perhaps," Legolas agreed with a smirk. "But to make the remarks aloud would have been far more disconcerting, I wager."

"Hush, ‘Las," Elladan broke in mildly. "You are distressing Anteruon and holding up the match."

Expecting a show of temper from his brother, Anteruon was surprised when Legolas simply cast a sheepish grin at the elder twin and moved to his side, slipping a possessive arm around Elladan’s waist. He was further taken aback when Elladan buried his nose in Legolas' hair for a moment before pressing a kiss to the prince's cheek. _'They behave as any other lovers,'_  Anteruon realized with a start, uncertain as to what he had expected instead. Pondering this discovery, he was unaware of Elrohir’s question until the younger twin touched his arm.

"It would be wise to tie back your hair, my prince," Elrohir repeated, offering a piece of leather lacing. "Shall I braid it for you?"

"I am not your prince," Anteruon retorted, but the snub lacked its usual venom and Elrohir was not surprised when Anteruon grudgingly allowed his honey-gold tresses to be fashioned into a single thick braid.

"Your hair is beautiful," Elrohir remarked, separating and weaving the shining strands. "It glows like burnished gold in the light."

Opening his mouth to make a biting comment, Anteruon was astounded to find himself saying, "It is little more than ordinary, among wood-elves. Yours is far more exotic. Black as a raven’s wing, and so straight."

"And mine is little more than ordinary among my people," Elrohir answered with a smile, tying off the finished braid. "There, you are ready to tussle."

"What of your hair?" Anteruon asked, indicating the elf-knight's loosened locks. "You are left with only side braids."

"I will knot it," Elrohir said with a grin, his eyes twinkling. "It will hold long enough for me to best you, I wager."

Anteruon snorted, not unpleasantly, as he watched Elrohir twist the length of his hair, tying a simple knot in the silken rope that was formed, mithril-sparked side braids swinging freely.

"Ready?" Tiriadon asked. Receiving a nod from both warriors, he called, "Match!"

Circling warily, Anteruon adopted a defensive posture. He ruefully conceded that there was little chance of victory, and briefly wondered why he had agreed to the bout. His opponent was more heavily muscled, better trained, and had several hundred years of practice on him. It would be enough to last a while and score a hold or two.

Elrohir glimpsed an opening in Anteruon’s defenses and moved in quickly, locking the crown prince in a fierce vertical contest of strength and balance which ended when Anteruon leaned heavily to one side, pulling both to the ground in a tangle.

"Well done," Elrohir said, wrapping his legs around Anteruon, pinning him tightly. "But I will still best you."

"Perhaps," Anteruon panted, finding a hold on the younger twin’s shoulder. With a fluid twist, he reversed their positions and pressed his opponent to the ground, grinning truiumphantly. "But you will know you have grappled, Peredhel."

"I do not doubt that, wood-elf," Elrohir chortled, before applying himself to the contest in earnest. As Anteruon had expected, he was out-matched, and the disparity became greater as they tired. With a final heave, Elrohir threw his opponent backward, straddling his hips, pinning his arms with firm hands. "Do you concede?" he gasped with a dazzling grin. "I believe I have you."

"I will grant you the match," Anteruon shot back with a smirk, "but you have lost your wager."

"My wager?" Elrohir repeated, tilting his head to one side. Releasing the prince’s hands, he asked, "What wager?"

Grinning up at the perplexed victor, Anteruon grabbed a handful of the inky-black hair that streamed over Elrohir’s shoulders. "You wagered your knot would hold long enough to best me."

Elrohir threw his head back and laughed merrily. Looking up at the elf-knight, Anteruon felt as though blinders had been removed from his eyes. _‘He is beautiful,’_ the crown prince realized, taking in Elrohir's exertion-flushed face and silken ebony locks. There was no gloating or arrogance in the younger twin’s exuberant smile, and his silver-grey eyes sparkled with pleasure. _‘This is what Legolas sees in them,’_ Anteruon marveled, lost in his musings. _‘How he sees them...face flushed and hair unbound...’_ Sensual images followed unbidden, and to his horror Anteruon felt himself begin to harden rapidly. Suddenly aware of Elrohir’s weight on his groin he shifted desperately, his movements only adding to his predicament. Flushing darkly, he snapped, "You can release me now. I have conceded."

Startled by the sudden change in the prince's demeanor, Elrohir looked at him curiously. "Have I hurt you?" he asked with concern, then bit his lip in understanding as a change of position pushed Anteruon's erection against his bottom. "’Tis alright," he began, "It happens to all of us when we..."

"Not to _me_," Anteruon hissed. "I do not fancy males that way." His face rigid he said, "Let me up Elrohir. Please."

Rising gracefully, Elrohir extended a hand to his subdued opponent, who accepted the help after a moment’s hesitation. "Do not be so disturbed, my friend," he urged quietly. "It is the excitement and movements of the match, nothing more. It would be strange if you did not..."

"Hold your tongue, Peredhel," Anteruon spat out, shaking off Elrohir’s hand. "You know nothing of this." Glancing at the astonished onlookers, he said, "I am going for a walk."

As the crown prince trudged off, tunic over his arm, Barangolas asked, "What is chewing on him, Elrohir? It was not a bad match. Surely he did not expect to subdue you?"

Elrohir merely shook his head, his face sober. Elladan looked at his twin searchingly and frowned, dissatisfied with whatever he was able to gather. "Where will he go, ‘Las?"

"Probably into the forest," Legolas replied thoughtfully. "He oft leaves the halls when brooding."

"Is he safe alone?" Elrohir asked with a frown, feeling unreasonably responsible for Anteruon’s mood, and thus his safety.

Legolas paused for a moment, his face uncertain. "Aye, it is usually safe, as long as you remain near the Halls and take a weapon for protection. The danger is more from spiders than orcs, unless you wander too far."

"Then let us hope he does not wander too far," Elrohir said grimly.

 

**************

 

The sun began to sink behind the trees and still Anteruon did not return. Pacing restlessly, Elrohir suddenly announced, "I am going after him."

"Nay, rohir nín, you are not," Legolas said firmly. "Not alone, at any cost. I can send a patrol..."

Shaking his head, Elrohir argued, "It would likely be the last straw, ‘Las, to have a full contingent of guards come to drag him home. ‘Dan and I will go look for him."

"You are being foolish, ‘Roh," Legolas retorted. "Mirkwood is _my_ home, and I know it well. You would be lost in a matter of minutes once you left the paths."

As Elrohir opened his mouth to protest, Legolas frowned. "I know you do not think he will talk about whatever this mysterious problem is with me present, but there will be no time for talk in the forest, anyway. It is not safe after dark, save inside the gates. So if we are going, we had best leave now."

Bowing to the inevitable, the twins quickly collected their weapons, following Legolas out into the rapidly dimming forest. The trio moved swiftly and silently, and Legolas stopped frequently, his forest-honed senses reaching out to explore the area, before moving once more.

Suddenly the prince froze, listening intently. When he turned to the twins, his eyes were troubled. "Spiders," he said grimly, moving off rapidly toward the sound. "Ready your bows."

A moment later Elladan and Elrohir also heard the sound, a brittle wooden chatter made by the movement of the spider’s legs. To their dismay, other sounds were soon audible - the keening wail of an elven blade, overlaid by the rasp of labored breathing.

Breaking into a run, they burst from the forest into a small clearing - and into a nightmare. Anteruon stood in the center of the space, wielding a burning brand and his sword with equal desperation. He was surrounded by spiders, some of which turned on the newcomers as though sensing fresh meat.

Bows singing, the rescuers cleared a path to Anteruon, who was exhausted, but apparently uninjured. Fighting back to back, they managed to clear most of the spiders from the clearing. Legolas fired his last arrows, then grabbed a branch, lighting it from Anteruon’s spluttering torch. "Hurry!" he ordered, "while they are scattered. We must make the gates."

As they headed toward the Halls, nearly running, Elrohir glanced back to check on Anteruon and felt his heart pause. He gasped in horror as a dark shape dropped silently from the trees toward the crown prince. "Look out, Anteruon! Above you!" he yelled, throwing himself bodily at the astonished elf.

Legolas and Elladan whirled at the shouts, dashing toward the spider as it settled over Elrohir’s legs, pinning him to the ground. Out of arrows, Legolas flung his twin knives at the creature, striking it in the head. It fell back, revealing Elrohir's still form, and Legolas, sick with dread, met Elladan's eyes as their voices blended in agonized denial.

_"Elrohir!"_

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

anor nín - my sun  
rohir nín - my knight  
tôren - my brother

 


	12. Chapter 12

Anteruon looked in horror at the ragged wound in Elrohir’s left leg. "Your knife, Legolas," he ordered, "quickly." Turning to Elladan, who had settled the elf-knight’s head in his lap, he said, "I must open the wound, to rid it of as much poison as possible. It will be a swift pain, my friend. Talk to him."

Taking the razor-sharp blade from his brother, Anteruon quickly cut away the torn leggings, then, without a pause, cut two intersecting slashes into the spider wound. So sharp was the blade and so sure the prince’s movements that Elrohir felt little pain, save the fierce burning of the venom.

As Anteruon began manipulating the opened flesh, squeezing out blood and clear yellow-green fluid, Elrohir gripped his brother’s hand tightly. "I love you, tôren," Elladan said softly, stroking Elrohir's pale face soothingly. "Stay with me.

"Love you, el nín," the elf-knight gasped, as a wave of nausea rolled over him. "Where is ‘Las?"

"I am here," Legolas answered, his calm voice belying the fear swirling in his chest. Forcing back the tears that threatened, he clasped Elrohir’s other hand, interlacing their fingers. "You will be fine, ‘Roh. Once my brother finishes with his play, we will get you to the healers."

A weak smile flitted across Elrohir’s face, "Aye, I am due a rest, anyway." Closing his eyes against another wave of nausea, the elf-knight pulled Legolas’ hand to his face, pressing his lips to the palm. "I love you, anor nín," he whispered. "I am sorry."

Seeing his brother’s facade begin to shatter, Anteruon interrupted gruffly, "There is no need for speeches, peredhel. You will have many years to apologize. We should head for the Halls now." Motioning Legolas aside, he said quietly, "You had best warn the healers, tôren. You are much faster than I. Elladan can carry him, and I will watch for spiders and act as a guide."

Legolas opened his mouth to argue, then shut it abruptly, realizing Anteruon was right. Dropping a swift kiss on Elrohir’s sweat-streaked face, he whispered, "I love you, rohir nín. Do not leave me." With a quick embrace for Elladan, he was gone, disappearing swiftly among the trees.

  


*****************

  


_~Imladris 2151 III~_

The Hall of Fire was filled with light and song. Elrond sat by the great hearth, the sharp planes of his face thrown into vivid relief by the flickering flames. "Come Glorfindel, sing us another," he prodded, his devilish grin lending him a startling likeness to his own sons. "Gildor has yet to hear the latest of your accomplishments."

A murmur of agreement sounded from the surrounding elves and the leader of the wanderers nodded, a mirthful ring in his voice. "Aye, do, cousin," Gildor urged, his deep blue eyes sparkling. "I see you have become learned in things other than warfare." When Glorfindel cast a glance at the chief minstrel, his kinsman chuckled. "Lindir will not mind," Gildor insisted, restlessly worrying his own golden braids.

The minstrel smiled, his mithril-pale eyebrows raising slightly. "Nay, I do not mind, híren," he agreed in his light, musical tones. "To be the sole entertainer in Imladris would be quite a heavy load. I am not at all adverse to sharing the burden."

Smiling, Elrond listened as Glorfindel began a familiar tune in his rich baritone, the melody quickly supported by Lindir’s harp. As the words washed over him, Elrond was suddenly aware of a presence...a gentle, yet persistent pull in his mind, as though someone struggled frantically to reach him. Frowning, he rose abruptly from his chair to find Erestor at his side. "What is amiss?" the advisor asked quietly.

"I felt a touch, as though someone is attempting a connection," Elrond answered, already headed for the door, "but the distraction is too much. I must have quiet."

Following his liege to the study, Erestor closed the door, then waited silently, his hand on Elrond’s shoulder. With perception born of long experience, he noted the link forming and closed his eyes, lending his own considerable mental strength to Elrond. Though unable to discern a message not intended for him, Erestor shivered as a chill ran through his body, and the feeling of foreboding grew as Elrond stiffened perceptibly, his profound mental focus faltering. The connection broke suddenly, and Elrond raised both hands to his face, drawing a deep breath. Erestor dropped to his knees beside the chair, slipping a comforting arm around his friend. "What has happened, híren?" he probed gently, shoving back his own rising dread.

As Elrond uncovered his face, Erestor instinctively held his breath. The depth of pain that flared in the twilight-grey eyes was heartrending, and the chief advisor immediately thought of Ereinion. He had not seen such anguish in Elrond’s eyes since the high king fell. Panic striving with his reason, Erestor grasped his companion’s arm firmly. "Elrond? Please, gwadoren," he said, unconsciously returning to the long-ago endearment, seldom used since the fall of Gil-galad, when Elrond had become, willing or no, the uncrowned successor to his liege-lord and lover. "What has happened?"

"It is Elrohir," Elrond answered hoarsely, his face rigid. "He has been attacked by a spider. Thranduil’s healers have done what they can, but he remains unresponsive." Closing his eyes against a rush of tears, Elrond said tightly, "We must leave at once if there is to be _any_ hope, however small."

Embracing his lord swiftly, Erestor rose to his feet. "I will inform Glorfindel and he will stir up a guard, while the servants pack. Would you have me go, or remain here?"

"I wish to have you with me, gwadoren," Elrond replied, returning the endearment with a firm arm-clasp, "But Celebrian will need you here. I would have you stay and manage the valley in my stead. Gildor will remain, I am sure."

As Erestor started to leave the study, he was struck with a second wave of foreboding. Turning back to Elrond, he asked quietly, "What of Elladan? Did Thranduil say how he fares?"

Elrond shook his head slowly. "He is not well. Legolas is with them, but it will be no matter." Raising his head to meet Erestor's gaze, he said, "If Elrohir passes to the Halls, Elladan will fade. I will lose them both."

"You will lose neither, Elrond," Erestor said with quiet assurance. "Prepare for your journey, híren, and comfort your lady. I will see to everything else."

By the time Erestor had ordered the packing of food and supplies, Glorfindel and his hastily assembled troop were dressed and waiting for Elrond. Drawing Glorfindel aside, Erestor kissed him lingeringly. "Be safe," he whispered, "and look after Elrond. He is too silent."

"I will," Glorfindel promised, embracing Erestor tightly. "Do not worry. I will be safe for the both of us."

Lifting his eyes to Glorfindel's face, Erestor said, "Remember of what we were speaking, yes? Do not let a chance slip by unused."

"I would wait until you were there..." Glorfindel began slowly, only to be interrupted by his lover.

"It is likely to be another century or more before that happens," Erestor pointed out with a small smile. "It is alright, melethron."

"We will see," Glorfindel replied cautiously. "I will promise no more." Catching sight of Elrond, he sighed, "It is time to go." Kissing Erestor soundly, he strode quickly to his horse, swinging lightly to Asfaloth’s back. With a final word to Erestor, Elrond nodded and Glorfindel led the way to the gates and the company passed through them under the starless sky.

  


********************

  


_~Mirkwood 2151 III~_

Elrohir lay ominously still, even the shuddering convulsions of his body’s reaction to the spider-venom left behind as he weakened further. A week had passed. Seven days in which Legolas and Elladan had sat helplessly beside the elf-knight, refusing to leave his side, eating only bites of food brought to the healing chambers, washing quickly by turns in a tub near the fireplace.

Anteruon entered cautiously and looked around the room, frowning as he realized the younger twin was alone. Elrohir should not be without Elladan. Where was the blasted healer? Where was Thranduil? Bursting through the door into the medicine room, Anteruon barely registered his father's presence, all his attention focused on one question as he grabbed the startled apprentice’s tunic.

Thranduil glowered, grasping his eldest son’s arm. "What are you..."

_"Where are they?"_ Anteruon spat, each word etched in ice. Shaking off his astounded father’s hand, he lifted the unfortunate healer bodily. _"Where are his brother and mine?"_

"I...I...they would not rest, híren. Iit was only...a sleeping draught..." the terrified young elf spluttered.

_"WHERE?"_ Anteruon bellowed, his furious gaze locked on the limp form in his grasp.

"In the ward, híren, just next door," the apprentice managed. "It was only a sleeping..."

"Go get them, son," Thranduil interrupted sharply. "I will handle this." As the crown prince rushed out of the room, the king turned a scathing gaze on the unfortunate healer, his voice dangerously soft, "You fool! Have you been so long with your plants and potions that you have forgotten all else? Did you listen to nothing your master said? They are twins! You have separated your patient from the half of his soul that is unharmed."

Turning abruptly, Thranduil strode after his son, leaving the mortified elf to ponder his mistake.

Anteruon was trying unsuccessfully to rouse a restless Elladan when Thranduil entered the ward chamber. "There is no time for that," the king said, lifting the elder twin in his arms. "Get your brother, Anteruon, and hurry."

Elladan stirred drowsily, shifting as Thranduil laid him beside his twin. "’Roh?" he murmured, snuggling closer to the still form, "I am here, tôren."

The king watched anxiously, relieved to see some slight movement, as though the elf-knight were drawing strength from his brother. Placing a hand on each dark head, his heart faltered. Elrohir was burning with fever, rivulets of sweat streaking his face and neck. The elder twin was icy cold, his skin dry as parchment.

As Anteruon gently laid his brother on the other side of the injured elf, Legolas reached out sleepily, draping one arm across Elrohir to rest his hand on Elladan’s hip. "’Tis alright, rohir nín...el nín," he mumbled, slipping back into a drugged rest.

Looking at the three, Thranduil was struck by a sharp stab of fear. _‘There is more than one life at stake,’ _he realized suddenly. _‘Elladan will surely follow, if Elrohir passes. Then what of Legolas?’_

As though reading his father's thoughts, Anteruon said quietly, "Are they bound, Ada?"

"Nay," Thranduil answered slowly, "at least not by rites." Reluctantly remembering the ease with which Legolas could communicate with the twins, Thranduil added, "But there are many different kinds of bonds. I would say they are entwined in some way."

"How long before Lord Elrond arrives?" Anteruon asked soberly, his hopes, too, pinned on the Noldo healer and loremaster he had so recently scorned.

"Another week, perhaps a few days less," the king replied. "It is not impossible to make the journey in two weeks, even without fresh horses, and I have sent a party of guards with extra mounts to meet them at the foot of the mountains."

"So, we wait?" Anteruon queried, his face troubled.

"Aye," Thranduil agreed, squeezing his son’s shoulder. "We wait."

  


*~*~*~*~*

  


el nín - my star  
rohir nín - my knight  
tôren - my brother  
híren - my lord  
gwadoren - my sworn brother  
melethron - lover  


  



	13. Chapter 13

Elladan looked much younger than his two millennia, his clouded grey eyes holding Thranduil’s pleadingly. "I do not understand, híren," he said wearily. "The fever has passed. Why does he not wake?" His voice nearly breaking, he added, "I can no longer feel him."

Thranduil sighed, wrapping the elder twin comfortingly in his arms, as though Elladan were one of his own children. "What do you know of the spiders, young one?" Thranduil asked, meeting the question with another, in true elvish fashion.

"Little, I suppose," Elladan replied. "I know that their poison is often deadly. The tales say they are descended through many centuries from the dark creatures of the earliest ages."

"The tales are true," the king said gently. As a look of horror spread over Elladan’s face, he went on, "The giant spiders of Mirkwood are not true spawn of Ungoliant’s daughters, yet they are evil none the less. Their poison affects not only the body, but the soul, as well."

"Will he wake?" Elladan demanded, once again meeting Thranduil's gaze.

"I...please, Elladan...wait for..." the king began, stumbling over the harsh words.

_"Will he wake, híren?"_ Elladan repeated, tightening his desperate hold on Thranduil's arm.

"I do not know," Thranduil admitted, his voice defeated. "I have not seen one return from the shadows after so long. But Elrond will arrive at any time, and we must place our hope in him."

A lone tear trickled down Elladan’s cheek as he stroked his brother’s face. Moving his hand to the golden hair spread like a gossamer blanket across Elrohir’s chest, Elladan gently tucked a braid behind Legolas’ ear. "I would not have us leave this world, when we have so recently found such a treasure," he whispered softly, as though speaking thoughts aloud.

Unsure that the words were intended for his ears, unable to speak around the lump in his throat, Thranduil contented himself with holding Elladan snugly, as though his embrace could prevent them all from slipping away.

  


*******************

  


Barangolas rushed toward the gates, his shrill whistle alerting the guards to his presence. As the barrier swung silently open, he caught sight of his eldest brother. "Anteruon!" he called, "They are here! Lord Elrond’s party approaches."

"Send some grooms for the horses, tôren," Anteruon directed, "then tell Ada. I will bring them to the healing hall."

As he dismounted at the gates, Elrond was astounded to see Thranduil’s eldest - arrogantly reserved at their previous meetings - racing toward him at a great pace. "Lord Elrond," the crown prince gasped, managing a slight bow before he seized the peredhel’s arm urgently. "Please, come with me, híren," Anteruon directed, tugging impatiently at Elrond's arm. "I will take you to them."

Elrond motioned for Glorfindel to follow, and Anteruon set off at nearly a run for the healing hall, dragging the others with him. "The fever has broken, but Elrohir does not wake," he offered grimly, striding into the healer’s rooms.

Elrond’s hope faltered as he entered the chamber where his son struggled to survive. Elrohir’s face was drawn and grey, his eyes dark-ringed. Legolas lay curled against the elf-knight, his fingers tangled tightly in Elrohir's unbound hair, as though he could prevent his lover’s passing by physical restraint alone. Elladan sat close against Thranduil, seeming to draw strength from the woodland king’s embrace. He clasped his brother’s hand, murmuring half-heard endearments that tore at Elrond’s heart.

"Elrond! Glorfindel!" the king said, suddenly aware of the visitors’ presence. Rising to greet his friends, he embraced Elrond warmly. "Forgive me," Thranduil said hoarsely, his proud head drooping. "I have failed to protect what you entrusted to me..."

"Nay, Thranduil," Elrond interrupted, clasping the king’s arm, "There is no need for blame here. Only healing."

"Elrond is right, my friend," Glorfindel agreed, squeezing Thranduil's shoulder reassuringly. "It was naught you did, or could have done."

Returning the touch, Thranduil smiled faintly. "I am glad you came, Glorfindel. It has been far too long."

"It has, indeed," Glorfindel answered, holding the king’s emerald gaze. "Far too long."

Sitting down beside Elladan, Elrond wrapped his eldest son in a warm embrace. Turning his head into his father’s shoulder, Elladan finally allowed his tears to fall unchecked, sobs wracking his body. "Hush, now, 'Adan," Elrond crooned, as though talking to an elfling. "We must see what is to be done. I will need you, and Legolas, too."

Awakened by his lover’s distress, Legolas sat up, reaching for Elladan’s hand. "What would you have us do, híren?"

"First I must speak with the healers," Elrond replied soberly. "Anteruon said the fever had passed."

"If I may, Lord Elrond," the chief healer offered hesitantly, moving to the bedside. At Elrond’s nod, he continued, "’Tis not a usual case of spider-venom illness. In most cases, the fever breaks before the body is exhausted and they survive, or it does not, and they pass. The soul-sickness takes them before their body can recover. Lord Elrohir’s fever lasted for nine days - a great length of time - and I held little hope. Yet now the fever has broken, but he will not wake. He seems unable to leave the shadows."

"I fear your may be right," Elrond said with a sigh. Drawing a deep breath he smiled grimly, "But there is no profit in guessing." Laying his hands gently on Elrohir’s head, he closed his eyes, reaching into his son’s mind. Long minutes passed in which Elladan and Legolas grew more and more alarmed, seeing the deepening frown on Elrond’s face.

Finally breaking the link, Elrond looked drained, his eyes clouded. "He should have passed before this day," he whispered. "The tie between body and spirit is nearly severed." Looking at Elladan and Legolas, he continued, "We must draw him back now, if it is not too late. I need both of you. I can not be both caller and healer. It will take all my strength to bind his spirit once it returns." Placing their hands on Elrohir’s head, he covered them with his own, then ordered, "Call him. Use your mind, just as though he were well. I will show him your memories, that he might find his way back."

_‘Roh? It is time to come back, tôren. The fever is passed._

_Aye, it is time, rohir nín. ‘Dan and I are here. Come back to us._

Their words meeting with silence, Legolas and Elladan focused instead on their memories, drawing up pictures of time spent together...laughing, playing, loving.

_Come back, melethen. Do not leave me, please._

Feeling the rush of Elladan’s memories, Legolas searched desperately for anything that would lead his lover back. As more erotic scenes began to flood his mind, the prince let them flow without censure. Scenes from the bathing pools at Imladris, waterfalls, black silk sheets, and soft furs in firelight...all washed through his mind in waves. Briefly wondering if Elrond was actually seeing the memories, or merely channeling them, Legolas felt a flush spread over his face, and the tips of his ears begin to burn.

_You are sweet when you blush, ‘Las._

His eyes flying open, Legolas found himself staring down into amused grey eyes. Tired, dark-ringed, and sunken...but amused. Tears welling in his own eyes, he glanced across the bed to see Elladan smiling broadly, his cheeks wet with tears.

"It was thoughtless of you, tôren, to rest so long," Elladan teased, his breath hitching as he leaned down to rub his cheek against Elrohir’s face.

"It is good to be back," the elf-knight rasped, his voice hoarse from disuse. "How long?"

"Ten days, rohir nín," Legolas replied, brushing a kiss over one starkly prominent cheekbone. "You will owe us heavily when you are well," he joked gently, before burying his face in his lover’s neck.

"Love you, 'Dan...'Las...Ada," Elrohir mumbled drowsily, his eyelids already drooping as he slid into a deep healing sleep.

Elrond pressed a kiss to his son’s forehead, his own eyes shimmering. "Mae govannen, 'Rohir," he said softly. "I love you." Rising from the bed, he urged Legolas and Elladan down. "He must sleep, and you should remain close. Lie down and rest. I will keep watch."

Thranduil, his eyes suspiciously bright, came to the bed, running a gentle hand over the three tousled heads. "I will have a light meal sent up," he offered, and Elrond gratefully accepted. Looking at Glorfindel uncertainly, the king asked, "Will you remain here, or join us in the pavilion?"

"I will join you, if I may, Thranduil," Glorfindel answered quickly. Moving to the bed, he laid a hand on each pale forehead in turn, before looking to Elrond. "If you do not need me, híren?"

Smiling slightly, Elrond waved a hand toward the door. "Nay, I do not need you, gwador. Go and relax. It was a hard ride."

Thranduil spared one last glance for the trio curled tightly together on the bed. Turning to his other sons, he motioned toward the door. "Come," he urged. "They need peace, and we have guests."

  


******************

  


"How is Erestor?" Thranduil asked suddenly, fixing Glorfindel with an intense stare. The two sat on the ledge of a courtyard fountain, sipping miruvor - a gift from Elrond - and talking amicably, their conversation becoming more and more intimate. Uncomfortably intimate, as Thranduil reasoned it.

Glorfindel chuckled, his sapphire-blue eyes twinkling. "You remind me of my lover to stave off unwelcome advances?"

Much to his dismay, Thranduil found himself blushing for the first time in many centuries. "I merely asked after Erestor," he said quickly. "I did not mean to imply..."

"Erestor is well," Glorfindel broke in, taking pity on his companion. "He very much regretted that he could not accompany us." Pausing for a moment, he added, "He very much regretted not seeing you."

"It would have been good to see him, also," Thranduil said, perhaps a shade too warmly, eager to change the subject. "It has been many years since we met." As Glorfindel arched his eyebrow in amused interrogation, the king went on, "Just as it has been many years since I saw you, my friend."

Glorfindel nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "_Just _as it has been many years since you saw me, Thranduil?"

No longer able to ignore the other elf’s gentle teasing, Thranduil raised a hand in surrender. "No, Glorfindel, not _just _as it has been many years since I saw you." Breaking into a reluctant grin, he said, "The last time I saw Erestor, he did not stand naked on my balcony. Nor did he leave me bruised for days."

Shaking with mirth, Glorfindel retorted, "What a shame. Perhaps we can remedy that."

At the king’s look of utter amazement, his companion chortled delightedly. "You could join us, yes?" His eyes sparkling, Glorfindel leaned closer. "Honestly, Thranduil," he purred wickedly, "have you not ever wondered exactly what Legolas _does_ with his twins?"

  


*~*~*~*~*

  


rohir nín - my knight  
tôren - my brother  
mae govannen - well met  
híren - my lord  
gwador - sworn brother

  



	14. Chapter 14

_Are you completely without mercy, ‘Las? Fourteen days! It is cruel beyond reason._

_You were unconscious for ten of those days, rohir nín._

_I was alive, was I not?_

_Aye, but barely._

_‘Las, I have not gone fourteen days without a tumble since my majority._

_Then it is time you developed some self-control..._

"Elrohir!" Legolas hissed in exasperation, abandoning his thoughts as the dark head that had been resting chastely on his shoulder turned to nuzzle his throat.

"Hmm?" the elf-knight acknowledged absently. "Valar, but you taste good..." he murmured, one hand wandering idly over Legolas' bare chest. Snuggling tighter against his lover, Elrohir added, "And you feel good, too. I am an injured warrior, anor nín. Do I not deserve some comfort?"

Pulling away gently, Legolas sat up and turned a rueful eye on his companion. "You are supposed to be resting, ‘Roh. Your wound closed but recently, and you are still somewhat weak."

"Aye, but I am not sleepy," Elrohir retorted, his grey eyes twinkling. "Perhaps some exercise would help me rest?"

"Perhaps I should send for ‘Dan, or your ada?" Legolas shot back pointedly. "I am sure either would be glad to mix a sleeping draught for you."

"Nay," Elrohir shuddered in mock horror. "I had enough of _those_ from the healers while in their care. I refuse to drink such a foul concoction now that I am released to your chambers." Breaking into a grin, he tugged insistently at a golden braid, pulling his reluctant lover down for a lingering kiss. "I will have to exhaust myself, instead."

Propping his elbows on Elrohir's chest, Legolas shook his head. "If you have no care for your own health, 'Roh, think of mine. ‘Dan, your ada, my ada, and every healer in Mirkwood will be after my hide if they return to find you collapsed again."

Elrohir chuckled, causing one golden eyebrow to raise inquisitively. "You think highly of yourself, wood-elf, if you believe I will collapse under your attentions. And ‘Dan had best not throw stones. I may still be recovering, but I am not deaf. The water flow here is not loud enough to muffle sounds, and I shall tell him so this afternoon."

Shifting guiltily, Legolas lowered his eyes. "I am sorry, rohir nín. It was not..."

"I was only joking, ‘Las," Elrohir said gently. "I did not intend to chastise you. No apology is needed." Breaking into a broad grin, he added, "Besides, it was quite enjoyable listening. I have a remarkable imagination, as you well know."

Legolas looked his lover over intently, then rose abruptly, heading toward the door. "I am bolting the door," he said, answering the inquisitive frown that darkened Elrohir's face.

Returning to the bed, Legolas pinned his lover with a smoldering gaze. "Did you touch yourself, while you were listening?" he asked seductively, unlacing his own leggings slowly.

"Aye," Elrohir answered, swallowing hard as the soft brown leather leggings were pushed to the floor, revealing the prince’s sleekly muscled body and rapidly burgeoning arousal. "’Las, I..."

"Shhhh," Legolas shushed, laying a finger over Elrohir’s mouth. Holding his lover’s gaze, he began languidly unlacing Elrohir’s dark green sleep-pants, causing the rough-woven fabric to slide enticingly over sensitive skin. "What did you imagine, rohir nín? Who was touching you, hmm?"

Closing his eyes as the loose garment was slowly slid off his hips, Elrohir drew a deep breath, his stomach twitching as the fabric was removed. Suddenly, he felt a sharp nip on his neck, followed by a soothing tongue. "Answer me, or I will stop," a breathless voice purred in his ear. "Did you imagine it was ‘Dan touching you? Or me?" There was a pause, as cool fingers trailed lazily over his bared skin, then the voice continued, an amused lilt now evident. "Or was it someone else?"

"Nay. Aye. Both," Elrohir managed, lifting his hips toward the clever hand that now drew ever-narrowing circles around his hardening shaft.

"What sort of answer is that?" Legolas teased gently, covering the elf -knight’s face with soft kisses. "Tell me. Both, you said?"

"Aye..." Elrohir began, his words quickly fading to moans as the circling hand closed firmly around his now-throbbing erection. "Please, ‘Las..." he gasped, reaching for his tormentor.

"Be still, ‘Roh," Legolas chided. "You are to rest. Let me do the work." Pulling away his hand, Legolas snickered at the petulant expression that flitted across Elrohir’s face, then stretched himself out over his lover.

"And where were you in your fantasy, rohir nín? Top or bottom?" he murmured against Elrohir’s lips, allowing no time for reply before capturing his lover's mouth in a heated kiss.

"Neither," Elrohir panted, when he was finally given time to speak.

"Neither?" Legolas repeated, both eyebrows arching in confusion. "We did not join, in this pleasant daydream?"

"Aye, we joined," the elf-knight answered, lifting off the bed to grind his hips against Legolas. "I was in the middle."

Legolas stared wide-eyed for a moment, then tilted his head thoughtfully. "Can we do that?" he asked curiously, his emerald-dark eyes intent on his lover’s face.

Elrohir returned the gaze soberly, then broke into a grin. "Not without ‘Dan, I am afraid," he chuckled.

Shaking his head in exasperation, Legolas snorted, "I did not mean _now_, Elrohir. I meant in general. I was thinking of the fusing, and the glow and such."

"I do not see why we could not," Elrohir replied, running his hands over his lover's body. "But just now I would prefer that you think of other things."

"Anxious, are we, rohir nín?" Legolas queried innocently, even as his mouth began a long journey down Elorhir's chest and over his corded stomach, stopping to suckle and bite, leaving pale-red ovals in its wake.

"Oh, gods, ‘Las," Elrohir whimpered as his straining shaft was suddenly beset by mouth and hands. "Wait, please...I will not last."

"’Tis alright," Legolas gasped, giving the turgid length a final lick before moving quickly to straddle his lover. "Neither will I," he hissed, impaling himself with one smooth movement.

Elrohir muffled a howl as he was sheathed in velvety heat, gripping the prince’s hips tightly as he fought for control. "I...I cannot...wait..." he panted, his whole body tensed with the effort required to hold back the climax that threatened.

"Touch me," Legolas demanded hoarsely, reaching for Elrohir’s hand. The elf-knight quickly closed his fist around his lover’s weeping erection, drawing an appreciative groan. "Aye, like that," Legolas breathed shakily, as the gripping hand began to move rapidly. "Elbereth, ‘Roh...more..."

Throwing his head back with a whimper, Legolas gave in to the pleasure and began rocking his hips rhythmically, thrusting into the warm hand. He gave a shuddering groan and his seed splashed over the elf-knight’s stomach, even as Elrohir released deep inside his body.

Carefully lifting himself, Legolas dropped beside his lover, wrapping him in a warm embrace. Elrohir snuggled tightly against the prince, his eyelids already heavy. "Love you, anor nín," he whispered drowsily.

"And I love you," Legolas replied, pressing a soft kiss to Elrohir's forehead. "Sweet dreams, rohir nín."

  


*****************

  


Thranduil paced his study distractedly, the events of the last four days running through his mind over and over, as though unable to escape. The arrival of Elrond had brought about Elrohir’s recovery, nearly beyond hope.

Elrond had also brought Glorfindel. The king sighed as he contemplated his old friend. Glorfindel had been the last to share Thranduil’s bed before the king was bound to his wife. There had been no romantic love there, no, but true and lasting friendship was there, as well as lust.

Glorfindel was also the first in the years since the death of the queen to seek more than one night in the king’s bed. He had made himself perfectly clear...astoundingly so. _‘I do not seek a quick tumble, Thranduil,’ _he had said, his voice perfectly calm._‘Erestor and I wish to have you share in our love.’ _As Thranduil opened his mouth to protest, Glorfindel had silenced him by quietly saying, _‘We understand that you are bound to your lady, even in death, hiren. We wish only to bring you comfort and all of us much pleasure.'_

And Glorfindel had been nothing if not proper. Though they joked and talked intimately, never did he take any physical liberty...and Thranduil could not decide whether to be grateful or disappointed. He had not forgotten the power and beauty that lay hidden beneath the warrior’s garb, and he felt sure Glorfindel, too, remembered their days together pleasantly. Otherwise, why would he be in Mirkwood, proposing this most amazing arrangement?

  


***********

  


Elrond’s eldest son sat quietly in the courtyard, his attention focused - with frightening intensity - on the crown prince of Mirkwood. "I am sorry, Elladan," Anteruon said soberly. "I have spoken much that was hurtful in my foolishness, and in my pride and stubbornness I nearly killed Elrohir."

"I would say that you saved his life, Anteruon, probably twice," Elladan replied. "Once in the woods, and once in the healing hall. I do not understand why you would blame yourself for his accident. It was nothing you did, and we all have said things best forgotten."

Looking silently at Elladan, Anteruon drew a deep breath. "He would not have been outside the gates, had I been less stubborn. Had I talked rather than run into the forest to brood, none of us would have been in danger." Looking Elladan full in the eye, he asked, "Did he tell you what caused my discomfort?"

Elladan hesitated. "Aye, he did tell me," he admitted, "and I would agree with his reasoning. It was merely the heat and movements of the match. It is nothing that should distress you."

"He is also more than passing fair," Anteruon said bluntly, watching the elder twin closely.

"I would agree," Elladan admitted with a slight smile, "Though it makes me sound quite vain."

"There is no conceit in acknowledging the truth, my prince," Anteruon retorted with a smile, his pleasant expression nearly as startling as the courtesy title. After a moment’s pause, he spoke again. "I do not pretend to understand the relationship between Elrohir, Legolas, and yourself." As Elladan opened his mouth to speak, the crown prince raised his hand in a gesture reminiscent of Thranduil. "I am not at all sure I need to understand," he added hastily. "My brother is obviously besotted, and that is reason enough to welcome you." Holding out one arm hesitantly, he said, "I would have us start over, Elladan, if you can forgive me."

"Gladly, Anteruon," Elladan replied, reaching out to grip his companion’s arm in a traditional warrior’s clasp.

Greatly relieved, Anteruon asked suddenly, "Is Elrohir up to company today? I would speak with him, also."

"He is quite able to have visitors," Elladan assured the crown prince, motioning for him to follow. Just as they reached the curving stairs, a strangled howl rang out from above. Stopping abruptly, Elladan raised one elegant eyebrow, meeting Anteruon’s startled gaze calmly. "I do not, however, think that this is the best possible time to drop in for a chat."

  


*~*~*~*~*

  


rohir nín - my knight  
anor nín - my sun

  



	15. Interlude III - More Conversations with the King

Legolas was in an extraordinarily good humor as he quickly braided his hair into a single silken rope of pale gold. He had returned from a very successful three-day scouting patrol shortly before midday to find Elrohir looking nearly himself again.

Originally disheartened by the fact that Elrohir - and thus Elladan, for the younger twin needed his brother’s proximity to regain his strength - could not accompany him on the mission, Legolas was delighted by the progress his lover had made during his absence. Elrohir insisted he was fully recovered, and the three had spent an enjoyable afternoon discovering that he was not, perhaps, _completely_ healed, but well on his way to perfect health. Legolas smiled, glancing toward the rumpled bed he had but recently left.

His twins lay curled around one another like sleepy cubs, having instinctively moved together once Legolas slipped from the tangle of limbs to dress. As reluctant as Legolas was to go, he was expected to deliver a report of the patrol’s activities and findings to the king as soon as was practicable...and he had already stretched the allotted time quite thin.

Sparing a last glance at the snuggling elves, Legolas broke into a devilish grin. ‘_‘Roh in the middle, hmm? I shall have to speak with ‘Dan..._’

  


**************

  


Glorfindel lounged on the overstuffed divan, his long legs folded comfortably on the seat. "Are you _still _reading the proposed trade agreement, híren?" he asked teasingly. "It would seem that being a king is quite dull."

Thranduil looked up from the lengthy missive in his hands and smiled ruefully. "Agonizingly dull at times," he replied. "Though it will not be dull for long if I fail to complete this agreement. My people would sooner lose their king than their reliable supply of Dorwinion wine."

"I think not, Thranduil," Glorfindel said seriously. "You are the heart of Mirkwood, my friend. It is love of you and yours that holds the realm together, and makes her strong."

"Thank you," Thranduil said sincerely, "though I would place my trust rather in the bows of Mirkwood’s archers."

"Aye, they are a strength beyond their number," Glorfindel agreed. "Seldom have I seen such skill as Legolas displays, and he little more than a millennium in years."

"He is already the best Mirkwood has to offer," Thranduil beamed proudly. "He outstripped his tutors long ago."

"And all the archers of Imladris, also," Glorfindel admitted wryly. "I would like very much to have him instruct my bowmen someday, if he can be spared for a season. The sword is my weapon, and none of my archery masters approach his talent."

"I have no doubt we can arrange a training visit," Thranduil chuckled. "Legolas would not be reluctant to spend a season in Imladris, I wager." Signing the new trade agreement with a flourish, Thranduil dusted the ink carefully, then rose from his chair with a sigh. "Enough work for the moment. Will you join me in a glass of the wine responsible for such a wordy treaty?"

"I will, indeed," Glorfindel chuckled. Watching as the king poured two goblets of the deep red spirit, he held out a hand, swinging his legs to the floor. "Come sit with me, Thranduil, and relax for a time. Your kingdom will manage for a brief period, surely."

The king hesitated briefly, his gaze caught and held by glowing sapphire eyes. "I will not bite you, híren," Glorfindel chided gently, accepting a glass of wine.

Thranduil looked soberly at Glorfindel for a long moment. "Perhaps you should." Sitting down beside his friend, the king drew a deep breath and took a sip of wine.

Glorfindel leveled a piercing stare at his companion. "Why do you resist, Thranduil? Do you not remember our time together with fondness? Do I no longer warrant your affection?"

Smiling slightly, the king replied, "I remember it with great fondness, and my feelings for you have not changed. I treasured every moment with you. I still do. But..."

"You are frightened." It was a statement, not a question.

"I am," Thranduil admitted. "It has been many years since any emotion save lust was shared in my bed, Glorfindel. I find myself weary of the games, yearning for real affection from a lover, yet unwilling to risk losing a friend. I am bound, and my soul still longs for my queen. But my heart..." His voice dropping, the proud king looked forlorn as an elfling bereft of family. "My heart longs for love, my friend...from one other than my children, I fear."

"Then accept the love that is offered you," Glorfindel implored. "Do you doubt that I care for you?" As Thranduil silently shook his head, Glorfindel continued, "Erestor and I had a third many years ago, and he fell. I was also part of a triad in my first life. This is not new to us, and we both desire you. Your bond holds you to your queen, and that is as it should be, but will you not accept what you can?"

Reaching impulsively for his companion’s hand, Glorfindel said pleadingly, "It is no betrayal, Thranduil. Not of your bond, and not of us. I ask for nothing you can not freely give. Will you not share in our love and care?"

Thranduil interlaced his fingers with his friend’s, then raised his eyes to meet Glorfindel’s gaze squarely. "Aye," he answered quietly, moving toward the glowing sapphire eyes. "I will."

  


**************

  


Legolas stopped dead in astonishment at the sight which met him in the courtyard. A legging-and-tunic clad Elrond sat casually on the ledge of a fountain, trailing his fingers idly through the water as he smiled and talked with his companion.

And his companion was Anteruon.

Elrond glanced up expectantly, sensing the awed stare. "Good afternoon, Legolas," he said pleasantly. "Were you able to rest?"

"I was indeed, híren," Legolas lied with a quick smile. _‘And I did not even blush,’_ he thought with satisfaction. _‘I am improving.’_

"Will you join us, tôren?" Anteruon asked from his seat on the cobblestones, where he seemed to have his hands full of...aye, dried leaves. "Lord Elrond is teaching me of some new healing herbs that are not used in Mirkwood."

Holding out a particularly fragrant leaf for his brother’s inspection, Anteruon explained, "This one is for prolonged fever, such as Elrohir suffered."

His eyes wide still wide with amazement at the seemingly easy rapport between the peredhel lord and Anteruon, Legolas handed the leaf back with a shake of his head. "I would enjoy the company, tôren...Lord Elrond, but I must make my report to Ada."

"He is in the study," Anteruon said with a grin. "But I doubt he is too busy. He was working on the Dorwinion import agreement, and Glorfindel joined him a short while ago. They are more likely drinking the wine than arranging its purchase, I wager."

Legolas snickered in agreement. "Aye, that contract usually results in wine consumption in the study." Turning to Elrond, he explained, "it is unusually long, and becomes more complicated every year. Ada drank half a case before the last renewal was signed."

"Then they will no doubt welcome the interruption," Elrond chuckled. "It will likely save them both from a ferocious hangover."

  


****************

  


Legolas’ first thought on opening the study door was that Elrond had been seriously mistaken. The interruption was not at all welcome.

His second was to cast a brief prayer of thanks to the Valar that he had given his usual cursory knock before entering.

His third thought was that he was very, very glad he had not delayed another quarter-hour.

It was the first thought he chose to verbalize, as he tried to back gracefully out of the room. "Forgive me, Ada...híren...I will return later..."

"Nay, Legolas, come in," Thranduil said, with only a hint of discomfort, as he rearranged his partially open robe. "It is about your patrol that you have come, I assume?"

"Aye," the prince managed, tearing his eyes from Glorfindel’s bared chest with difficulty. "But there is nothing of major importance, and I can..."

"I will leave you to your report, then, my friend," Glorfindel broke in, his sapphire-blue eyes twinkling. "We will have much time for our discussion later, aye?"

Thranduil’s emerald gaze sparkled, a most inappropriate grin threatening. "We will indeed, híren. I will call on you before dinner, if that is acceptable?"

"Most acceptable," Glorfindel all but purred, pulling on his tunic. "I shall look forward to it." Turning to Legolas, he smiled kindly. "It is good that you are home safe, my prince. I will see you at dinner?"

Nodding mutely, Legolas watched Elrond’s captain run lightly across the courtyard.

"Close the door, son," Thranduil said gently, the smallest hint of amusement in his rich voice.

"What? Oh, I..." Legolas floundered, pushing the door together as directed.

"Your patrol?" the king prodded helpfully, gesturing to a chair near his desk.

Legolas sat obediently, then rose again almost immediately. "The patrol was most successful, Ada," he announced smugly, his pride in the elves of his guard momentarily displacing his befuddlement. "The nest of spiders which attacked Anteruon and injured Elrohir is utterly destroyed. We ambushed one small scouting group of orch...none will return to report. We found no sign of new spider nests nor orch enclaves around the Hall...Ada, what exactly was going on when I arrived?"

Thranduil was unable to stifle a snort at the blurted question, and Legolas himself looked somewhat disconcerted that it had been asked. "What appeared to be going on?" Thranduil returned, his face determinedly sober.

"I...it seemed...I am unable to say," the prince finished hastily, his ears burning.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Come now, young one. You have spent this entire afternoon locked in your chambers with Elladan and Elrohir. Surely the activity is not unknown to you?"

Blushing even more furiously, Legolas stuttered helplessly, "Nay, of course not, I mean...aye, I know what..."

Taking pity on his flustered offspring, Thranduil gently directed the prince to a chair and pushed him into it. Pouring a glass of miruvor, the king handed it silently to his son, who tossed the cordial back with practiced carelessness. Arching one golden eyebrow in amusement, Thranduil chuckled. "You have obviously been drinking with the twins for far too long, Legolas." Sitting down, he waited for a moment before speaking again. "I am sorry that you found out this way, my son, though I know not what better way I might have prepared."

His eyes wide, Legolas managed, _"Glorfindel?_"

Smiling slightly, Thranduil answered, "Aye. Glorfindel and I have a long history. We have been friends for millennia...and he was my last lover before I bound with your nana. There is great affection between us."

"But, Erestor..." Legolas began, his brow wrinkled in confusion.

"...is Glorfindel’s binding mate, just as your naneth is mine." Pausing briefly, the king looked intently at his son, trying to judge his reaction to the next bit of information. "Glorfindel and Erestor have past experience with triads."

Legolas' eyes grew huge with amazement as he tried vainly to form a coherent sentence. "You...Glorfindel...all...Erestor..."

Attempting to forestall any objections, Thranduil went on, "They have asked that I join them, share in their love and care. It is no betrayal of your naneth, Legolas, nor of Erestor and Glorfindel’s bond. I love Glorfindel, but it is the affectionate love of one friend for another. I am fond of Erestor. But my eternal love...my soul...belongs to my queen."

Legolas’ face remained nearly expressionless, and the king felt his heart begin to sink. He had counted on the second-born prince to help explain to the others. If even Legolas could not understand, could not accept...Thranduil sighed tiredly. "Still, I grow hungry for the affection of a lover, and not simply the lust of casual tumbles."

Hearing the defeat in his father’s voice, Legolas quickly snapped out of his stupor. "Oh, Ada," he began, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I am not disapproving. I was merely lost in memories...we will talk later. After a visit to Imladris, perhaps? I am happy for you, as you were for me. It is no betrayal to find your pleasure with those who care for you, rather than those who seek only to have you."

Shaking his head ruefully, Legolas said, "I do have one question, though." At Thranduil’s inquisitive look, he asked, "Am I the _only_ elf in Arda who has not bedded Glorfindel?"

Chuckling delightedly, the king replied, "Nay, Legolas, I would wager you are not." His eyes twinkling he went on, "I think it unlikely your brothers have done so, either."

  


*~*~*~*~*

  


híren - my lord  
tôren - my brother  
Ada, Adar - Papa, Father

  



	16. Chapter 16

The late afternoon sunlight that poured through the high, narrow openings in Glorfindel’s guest chamber found a worthy home. Meandering across the rumpled bed, it fell at last on shimmering yards of unbound golden hair that spilled over the dark green bed-coverings.

Glorfindel raised himself slightly, smiling down at his disheveled companion. Thranduil’s hair spread in glorious abandon over the pillows, its pale sunlit sheen a pleasing contrast to the Glorfindel’s own intensely golden tresses. The king’s creamy skin was marked with ovals of red and pale blue, his emerald eyes dark as the silken coverlet on which he lay.

"Lovely," Glorfindel murmured, brushing a soft kiss over swollen lips. "So very lovely." Raising a hand to Thranduil's face, he ran his fingers lightly over one angular cheekbone. "How do you wish it to be, my friend? I would have you, if you are willing."

Thranduil hesitated a moment, unease warring with desire. "Aye, Glorfindel, I am willing," he said at last. Rummaging in the drawer of the bed table, Glorfindel removed a small tub of creamy salve, flipping off the lid with a practiced hand. Thranduil arched one eyebrow, his lips twisting wryly. "Prepared for every contingency, are you?"

"Of course," Glorfindel retorted, amusement coloring his voice. Lowering his head to nuzzle his lover’s throat, he added, "That is the secret of my successful career."

"Which career would that be? Warrior or lover?" Thranduil teased breathlessly, arching up in invitation as the warm mouth left his neck, nipping and licking its way over his chest.

"Both," Glorfindel chuckled, before seizing one golden nipple ring in his teeth.

Thranduil hissed as the sharp tingles of sensation ran over his body, raising his hand reflexively to cradle the sunlit head that hovered over him. Giving the ring another tug, Glorfindel eyed his partner intently. "I had nearly forgotten these. Perhaps I should consider such an adornment for myself. It would seem they are more than merely attractive."

"Indeed," Thranduil agreed, loosing his grip on the golden hair as Glorfindel continued his descent. "I would be glad to accompany you to a piercing. And soothe you afterward."

"A promise worth much pain, melethron," Glorfindel purred, before engulfing his lover’s arousal in one quick movement.

Thranduil gasped harshly, pressing up into the slippery warmth, as gentle fingers worked the slick salve into his body. Glorfindel nearly forgot to breathe, so intent was he on preparing his lover. The tightness around his fingers seemed to speak directly to his groin, and he moaned reflexively around the shaft that filled his mouth, drawing an answering groan from Thranduil. "Please..."

Stilling his fingers, Glorfindel pulled himself back up, his sapphire-blue gaze darkened to near black as he studied the king’s face. Though a fine sheen of moisture covered the fair features, there seemed to be no echo of pain there. Curling his fingers purposefully, he brushed them over his lover’s most sensitive spot, causing Thranduil to growl.

The king reached for the tub of salve, scooping a generous amount onto his fingers. Holding Glorfindel’s darkened gaze with his own, he spread the slippery cream over his lover’s weeping erection. "Are you sure?" Glorfindel asked hoarsely, even as he moved atop, skin sliding intoxicatingly over skin.

"I am," Thranduil breathed, lifting his legs to encircle his partner’s waist. "Take me."

Positioning himself, Glorfindel began pushing slowly inside, watching the king’s face carefully. Thranduil remained silent, but was unable to hide the grimace that flickered across his face, and Glorfindel went still. Then, claiming Thranduil’s mouth in a distractingly fiery kiss, he pressed forward, burying himself in the silken heat in one slow movement. Fully sheathed, he remained motionless, murmuring soothingly as he nipped and licked at flushed ears, until the king moved impatiently against him. "Now?" Glorfindel whispered.

"Aye, now," Thranduil breathed, pressing up against his lover. "I am quite well."

"Good," Glorfindel purred, pulling back and thrusting cautiously forward again, a wave of relief washing over him as his lover gasped with pleasure rather than pain. Setting an gentle rhythm, he moved easily in the slick passage, shuddering as the tight muscle gripped him firmly with each thrust.

Eyes wide as he was immersed in the nearly-forgotten sensation, Thranduil rose to meet each movement, moaning involuntarily as he was stroked from within by the piercing length. "Glorfindel?" he hissed hoarsely, tightening his grip on his lover’s arms.

"Aye?" Glorfindel panted, his body trembling with the effort of maintaining the slow, easy thrusts.

"I will not break," Thranduil gasped. "Let go..harder...please."

Giving in with a groan, Glorfindel allowed his movements to escalate, drawing a pleasured sigh from his partner. "Like that...Elbereth...like that..." Thranduil moaned as his lover’s hand closed around his throbbing arousal, stroking in smooth rhythm with the pounding thrusts.

"Oh, Valar...oh..._Glorfindel..._" the king groaned, spilling over the caressing hand as tremors wracked his body. "Oh, Valar..." he repeated weakly, strengthening his hold as Glorfindel’s body tightened in the wake of his own completion.

Carefully withdrawing, Glorfindel dropped to the bed, pulling Thranduil into a warm embrace, holding the king snugly as their bodies slowly relaxed. "We have some time before dinner," Glorfindel said, absently stroking the tousled golden locks that lay draped across his chest.

"Aye, we do, indeed," Thranduil replied, pressing a kiss to his lover’s jaw, "and I would spend it resting with you."

  


*****************

  


Elrohir stretched languidly in the tub, sighing with relief as the steaming water eased his sore muscles. His first bout of training since the spider attack had been a rousing success, but his body was protesting violently following the extended exertion. This was, in fact, his second hot soak of the day, urged on him after dinner by a suspiciously cheerful Legolas, and prepared by a smirking Elladan. Something was definitely afoot.

Laying his head back comfortably, his unbound ebony hair floating around him like a silken web, Elrohir allowed his thoughts to wander freely. There was little point in pondering his lovers’ strange behavior. All would undoubtedly be revealed in time. _‘Just as Glorfindel’s afternoon activities were laid bare,’ _he thought with a muffled snort.

Legolas had warned his lovers, of course, swearing them to secrecy before telling them of his inadvertent discovery in Thranduil’s study, as well as the resulting conversation with his father. Having some sense of Glorfindel’s history, the twins bore the news with surprising equanimity.

They had teased Legolas unmercifully with their insistence that he was now in the unusual, but enviable, position of being more experienced than his father, and was thus duty bound to share his expertise.

The prince, not at all amused, had declined.

Thranduil and Glorfindel had arrived together for dinner, their demeanor perfectly proper, but notable, nonetheless. What the Mirkwood elves made of their king’s sudden fondness for the Imladrian captain was open to supposition.

Elrond’s reaction was not. Raising an interrogative eyebrow as his friends entered the pavilion, the Peredhel lord’s keen eyes soon focused on the rapidly fading bites and bruises scattered over his captain’s neck, quickly finding their mates on Thranduil’s throat. Suppressing a snort with unusual difficulty, he had simply said, "Pleasant afternoon, Glorfindel?"

Elrohir chuckled quietly at the memory. Few could match Elrond’s ability to completely discomfit an elf with three words and an eyebrow. _‘Though ‘Dan may soon provide some competition...’_

"Feeling better, rohir nín?" the subject of his latest musing asked with a grin, holding out a towel. "It is time to leave the bath, I believe."

Lifting himself easily, Elrohir stepped from the tub and reached for the towel. "Aye, much better," he answered, twisting the water from his hair before rubbing himself dry. "What are you up to, tôren?"

"Up to?" Elladan replied innocently, wrapping a dry towel around his twin snugly. "Why must I be ‘up to’ anything?" Without waiting for an answer, he ran his fingers carefully through the damp black tresses, removing the snarls before combing the silken length and beginning to braid.

"Well, ‘Dan, let me think," Elrohir retorted, both eyebrows rising in surprise at the continued coddling. "First, you fix this marvelous bath, when I have already soaked once today. Then, I hear quite a bit of muffled conversation and laughter emanating from the bedchamber while I bathe. And now, you are braiding my hair, an attention that is certainly appreciated, but unusual at this time of day."

"Come along, ‘Roh," Elladan said, ignoring the diatribe as he tied off a loose braid. "All finished in here."

_"In here?"_ Elrohir parroted, allowing himself to be led from the bathing chamber. "Are you not finished with me, then?"

"Not nearly finished," Legolas broke in with a grin, gesturing toward the bed. "Sit down."

"Beg pardon?" Elrohir returned absently, his attention taken by the numerous lit candles that dotted the room, the turned back bed-coverings, and the enticing smell of incense rising from the fire-bowl.

"Sit. Down. On the bed," Elladan directed, as though talking to a particularly dense elfling. His eyes twinkling, he added, "’Tis not a difficult request."

Settling on the edge of the bed, Elrohir sat bemused as Legolas handed him a glass of miruvor, then pulled the heavy braid over his shoulder. Opening his mouth to question his lover, the elf-knight swallowed his inquiry as a stream of warmed oil ran across his back, and Elladan began to rub the stiff muscles.

"That feels _so _good, el nín," he groaned, dropping his head forward to rest against Legolas’ stomach.

"I am glad," Elladan murmured, moving his attentions to Elrohir’s upper arms. "Finish your drink, tôren, and put down the glass before you drop it."

Tossing back the remaining cordial, Elrohir sat his glass down on the bed table, allowing his head to settle against the prince once more. Stroking the obsidian hair lightly, Legolas met Elladan’s eyes, grinning wickedly. "Are you comfortable, ‘Roh?" he asked, shifting closer to the bed.

"Aye, quite comfortable," Elrohir answered, his breath grazing his lover’s bare skin. Wrapping his arms loosely around the legging-clad hips, he pressed a kiss to Legolas’ navel. "Quite incredibly comfortable."

Chuckling, Elladan tugged gently at his brother’s shoulders. "Lie down, rohir nín," he ordered, forestalling any questions with a swift kiss. "On your back."

Stretching out obediently, Elrohir yelped in surprise as each leg was seized suddenly, then massaged with long soothing strokes, the warm, oily hands climbing slowly toward his groin. "It would be nice to know what this is all in aid of," he ventured, his voice as calm as possible under the circumstances.

"This is all about making you feel better," Legolas answered, deftly stripping the elf-knight of his towel and running oiled hands over his lover’s bared stomach.

"Aye, it is, indeed," Elladan agreed, ceasing the massage to trail gentle fingers up his brother’s inner thigh, then over the soft sac under Elrohir's stiffening shaft. Lowering himself beside his twin, Elladan bent to nuzzle an ear teasingly. "It is your daydream, after all."

Elrohir inhaled sharply, understanding dawning. Turning his darkened gaze on Legolas, he spoke accusingly. "You told him."

"Of course I did," Legolas replied, a decidedly self-satisfied smirk crawling across his face. "It would be rather difficult to manage without him, as you pointed out yourself, ‘Roh."

Elladan sighed heavily, glaring at his lovers in mock reproach. "It is quite disconcerting to be referred to as ‘him,' as though I were not present."

Elrohir chuckled, raising a hand to his twin’s face. "My apologies, tôren. It was not meant as a slight. I am merely surprised at our wood-elf, carrying tales, as it were."

"Your wood-elf did so with only the best intent, rohir nín," Legolas retorted silkily, stretching himself alongside his lover.

"The information was greatly appreciated," Elladan said, flashing a wicked grin at the prince, "and amply rewarded."

"I take it that I am the victim of a well-considered plot, then?" Elrohir asked, one ebony eyebrow arching sharply upward.

"Aye, you are," Legolas agreed cheerfully. "There is little for you to do but enjoy it."

"Enjoy it, and lower your eyebrow, ‘Roh," Elladan amended with a smirk. "It is not imposing enough to be worth the effort, when you are bare...and oily."

"_Elladan,_" the elf-knight began warningly, grabbing a handful of obsidian-dark hair to pull his twin closer, their noses nearly touching.

"Aye, _Elrohir_?" his captive returned, breath ghosting over Elrohir’s skin as identical dark grey gazes met and locked.

A slow smile spreading across his face, Elrohir purred, "It would please me greatly, tôren, were the two of you bare and oily, also."

Brushing a light kiss over his brother’s lips, Elladan rose wordlessly and stripped off his leggings, unable to suppress a sharp intake of breath as the cool air caressed his heated skin. Catching Legolas’ emerald gaze, he smiled slightly.

_Take them off, anor nín._

_In a while, ‘Dan. I want to watch._

_Aye, and I would see you. Now. Take them off._

_Are you giving me orders, Peredhel?_

_Are you objecting, wood-elf?_

Legolas chuckled suddenly, a grin breaking through his solemn mask. "Nay, el nín, I am not objecting." Standing to slip out of his leggings, he added, "Not to this order, at any cost." Dropping back to the bed, he leaned down and captured Elrohir’s mouth in a languid kiss, his tongue exploring lazily. As he pulled away, he nipped his lover’s lower lip sharply. "Entertain me, hmm, rohir nín?" he murmured, lapping soothingly at the abused flesh. "Make me burn."

Elrohir watched silently as Legolas curled comfortably at the head of the bed - golden hair pooling on the pillows, ivory skin aglow in the candlelight - before turning his midnight-dark gaze to Elladan. Elrohir extended a hand, his own lips curling slightly in an echo of his twin’s expression.

_Come here, tôren, and love me._

Legolas watched, nearly breathless with anticipation, as Elladan lowered himself beside his brother, one leg possessively anchoring Elrohir to the mattress. The prince sat enthralled as the identical forms slid together, pale limbs tangling with increasing fervor as mouths nipped and lapped mercilessly.

Though he had become accustomed to the glow of his twins’ fusing, and the eerie unity of movement and voice afterward, Legolas still found himself as amazed by the eroticism of their bed-play as when he first witnessed it. The mirror images, moving in fluid concert, never failed to arouse him. Biting back a groan, he drew a shuddering breath as Elladan took Elrohir’s mithril nipple ring in his teeth, tugging gently before licking the sensitive peak soothingly. The elf-knight whimpered with pleasure, his fingers stroking and kneading his lover’s shoulders as the dark head moved to the unpierced nipple.

Elladan’s unbound hair fell forward, obscuring the prince’s view, as he slowly descended Elrohir’s body, a trail of reddened blotches in his wake. Fighting the urge to reach out and push back the offending tresses, Legolas was surprised nearly to speech when the elf-knight gathered the dark curtain and pushed it aside, as though for the prince’s benefit. Surprise turned to amazement as Elladan raised his head, pinning Legolas with a glittering glance before returning his attention to the writhing body beneath him. His own erection throbbing insistently, Legolas’ stomach tightened in sympathy when Elrohir howled as his aching shaft was licked teasingly, each stroke ending with a slurping swipe at the weeping tip.

"Sweet Eru, ‘Dan..." Elrohir gasped, clutching reflexively at the arm holding his hips immobile, "stop...please...enough..."

Raising himself slightly, Elladan slid up his lover’s body to press a smoky-sweet kiss to Elrohir's swollen lips. "Enough?"

"Aye, it is enough," Elrohir breathed, arching off the bed to grind his hips against his brother, causing twinned gasps as their engorged lengths rubbed together enticingly. "Take me."

Reaching blindly for the oil, Elladan encountered instead Legolas’ hand, which seized his wrist to stop the groping. Looking up in surprise, he smiled his thanks as a stream of warm oil hit his palm. Slicking his own straining length, he pressed oiled fingers into his lover's body, preparing him quickly.

Reaching out expectantly, Elrohir chuckled when Legolas stared at him blankly for a moment before pouring a generous puddle of oil into the waiting hand. "I nearly forgot, so involved was I in the entertainment," the prince said, smiling ruefully.

Elrohir closed his eyes briefly, a low growl escaping as he carefully drizzled oil over his own arousal. "Come closer, anor nín," he breathed. "I cannot reach you."

Moving to lie beside the elf-knight, Legolas found himself caught in a fierce kiss, his mouth explored aggressively as strong hands wandered over his body, slick fingers spreading his buttocks,stretching and oiling him. Reluctantly breaking the kiss, he pulled away slightly. Though he was no longer fearful of touching his twins _while_ they were joined, even Elladan and Elrohir were unsure how contact would effect the fusing as it happened, and no one had yet gathered the courage to ask Elrond.

Pressing back against Elladan invitingly, Elrohir turned his head to meet his twin's passion-darkened gaze, impatience burning in his own eyes.

_Now, el nín._

_Aye, now._

Legolas remained stretched alongside his lovers, waiting with no small amount of apprehension. His own erection twitched almost painfully as he watched them, and he shuddered in anticipation as Elladan gently forced Elrohir’s top leg forward, then buried himself with one slow thrust.

As the silvery shimmer began to envelop the joined forms, the prince drew a deep breath, closing his eyes in a vain attempt to calm his racing pulse. Opening them a moment later, Legolas found himself staring into two pair of obsidian eyes as one voice echoed in his thoughts.

_Has your mind changed, anor nín? ‘Tis alright._

"Nay, it has not," Legolas replied, moving into the reaching arms. Surrounded by the soft glow, Legolas sighed as a now- familiar warmth washed over his body, settling comfortingly in his soul. Pressing a lingering kiss to each swollen mouth, he turned and curled into Elrohir’s embrace rubbing temptingly against the elf-knight’s weeping length. "Have me, rohir nín."

A blended groan sounded, causing Legolas to shiver slightly as he pressed back, sheathing his lover in one steady movement, drawing a strangled cry from both of the twins. Gasping as waves of nearly unbearable sensation washed over him, Legolas found himself cradled snugly against Elrohir, a gentle hand stroking his hair soothingly, even as the body behind him trembled.

_‘Tis alright ‘Las._

_Please...too much..._

_Shhhh...’tis alright. Let me..._

Legolas whimpered as four arms encircled him, anchoring him against the small, rocking thrusts that stroked him from within. He was barely aware of the harsh breathing and mingled moans behind, so focused was he on the fierce ache growing in his own groin. When one hand left his hip, sliding down to wrap firmly around his throbbing erection, he nearly sobbed with relief, spilling over the caressing hand with a keening cry. The added sensation pushed his lovers over the edge, twinned howls echoing in the near silence of the forest night.

Long moments later they separated reluctantly. Legolas slipped back between his lovers, smiling slightly as he was wrapped in arms and legs from each side, stereo sighs lulling him to sleep.

  


*~*~*~*~*

  


melethron - male lover  
rohir nín - my knight  
el nín - my star  
anor nín - my sun  
tôren - my brother

  



	17. Chapter 17

"I am going with you, ‘Las," Elrohir said firmly, never raising his eyes from the sword he was whetting. Finding the edge keen, he began to oil the steel before continuing. "There is no need for further discussion."

"’Roh, you cannot-" Legolas began, only to be interrupted decisively.

"No more discussion," Elrohir repeated, a subtle warning in his tone.

Turning to Elladan, Legolas sighed in exasperation. "’Dan, this would be easier, perhaps, with some support. Tell him."

Elladan laid down his own weapon and looked soberly at the prince for a long moment before replying. "But he is right, anor nín. You need us."

Eyes widening in equal measures of disbelief and irritation, Legolas retorted, "Aye, need you I do, but not to fight for me. Tiri and I have survived innumerable battles over the centuries. I would not have ‘Roh risk combat before he has regained his prowess. He is foolhardy to consider it!"

"I am sound as ever, ‘Las," Elrohir objected. "There is no benefit in waiting. Only a real engagement can test my skills and stamina now. The training field has served its purpose." Pinning the prince with his silver-grey gaze, he added, "And ‘Dan speaks the truth. You will need our abilities against such opponents."

As Legolas opened his mouth to protest, Elladan laid a calming hand on his lover’s arm. "Peace," he said soothingly. "We do not intend to belittle your battle readiness, or that of your guard. But these brigands are Men, ‘Las. Not orch-spawn, not spiders, but evil _Men._ And no disparagement is intended when I say you have little experience with such treacherous foes."

Elrohir nodded in agreement. "They are cruel as any orch, and often far more cunning. And such experience as you have against them was garnered in our company. We will not risk losing you to such an enemy. We shall go."

"And I would not lose you," Legolas replied earnestly, dropping to the bench where the elf-knight sat. "I _cannot_ lose you and continue."

"Do not speak of such things, ‘Las," Elladan chided gently, settling close beside Legolas. "There is no profit in such thoughts."

"It is naught but the truth, el nín," Legolas said quietly, his eyes clouded. "I thought of little else while ‘Roh was so ill. If he had passed, you would have quickly faded...and I would have followed, I wager."

"Yet you would have us remain here, or return to Imladris, while you wander the wilds, subduing these bands of thugs?" Elrohir asked in disbelief, moving to face Legolas. Giving his lover no time to speak, he continued, "And if you fell, ‘Las? While we sat idle in the safety of the Halls, or the hidden valley? It would be no different, in the end, anor nín. How can you-"

"Enough, tôren," Elladan broke in firmly, shooting a warning glance at his twin as he slipped a reassuring arm around the prince. "Your point is well made." Turning to Legolas, he added gently, "Though we are often loath to remind you, we can claim ten centuries experience living before you were born. Our mind is decided. We will go."

Looking soberly at his lovers, Legolas sighed in resignation, tucking an ebony braid behind Elladan’s ear, then briefly touching Elrohir’s cheek. "I concede, though I like it little enough," he said, breaking into a grin as he added, "ancient ones."

  


*************

  


Elrond drew a deep breath, passing one hand over his eyes. "They will ride with the prince, of course."

"Of course," Glorfindel agreed, a wry smile playing over his lips. "Will you try to dissuade them?"

"Do you require their services at home?" Elrond countered, one elegant eyebrow arched in question. "We must leave ere the week is out, ourselves."

"Nay," Glorfindel replied, shaking his head slowly. "They are highly skilled, and thus valuable...but we are well protected, even without the twins." After a moment’s silence, he asked curiously. "Would they heed you if you forbade this sojourn, híren?"

Elrond met his captain’s sapphire gaze and smiled ruefully. "My pride is best served by not dwelling on that question. And I would not have Elladan and Elrohir put in such a position."

"Is Elrohir fit enough for such travel?" Glorfindel prodded, concern coloring his voice. "It has been little more than a moon since he was attacked."

Sighing, Elrond nodded reluctantly. "Aye, he is well enough, I suppose. He trains fully, and has regained nearly all his former strength." Elrond looked intently at his captain. "Will Thranduil travel with us?"

"Aye," Glorfindel smirked. "He will. Anteruon will manage, with the king’s advisors for support, and Barangolas is more than capable of what little governing the warriors require. The troops of Mirkwood need little direction from any other than their captains. They will miss Legolas, certainly, but his brother will suffice."

"I would have Anteruon come to us in Imladris for several seasons," Elrond said, diverted by the captain’s remark. "Perhaps this winter, for the first. He shows great interest in the healing arts, and considerable ability."

Glorfindel eyed his friend seriously. "He shows considerable interest in another attraction of the valley. Will you involve yourself?"

Elrond sighed deeply. "I am still undecided. I do not wish to cause pain by my speech, nor allow it by my silence. It is Elladan’s concern, in the end, rather than mine. He will handle it as he deems best, and I have complete faith in his diplomacy. And there is every chance the situation will resolve itself once the battle-party leaves."

"It may, indeed. It is likely naught but fascination with the new and exotic," Glorfindel agreed. "Is Legolas aware, do you imagine?"

Elrond shook his head. "I daresay not." His grey eyes twinkling, he added, "And that is a good thing, too, I wager. I have little to no faith in _his_ diplomacy."

  


***************

  


Anteruon forced back yet another smile. "We will be fine, Ada," he repeated, for seemingly the hundredth time. "The realm will stand for a moon or two without your presence. Barangolas will be here to manage the patrols in Legolas’ absence, and your advisors could well manage without me."

"Aye, I suppose you are right," Thranduil admitted guiltily. "I find myself loath to relinquish control, even to one who will himself rule one day." Laying his hand on the prince’s shoulder, he added, "One of whom I am extraordinarily proud."

"Thank you," Anteruon replied, flushing slightly at his father’s praise. Changing the subject quickly, he asked, "What of Legolas’ plan, Ada? It is an ambitious undertaking, is it not?"

The king nodded soberly. "It is indeed ambitious. One would be tempted to say foolhardy, did Glorfindel and the twins not lend it their support." Smiling slightly he added, "It is hard to consider my own second-born a gifted strategist, though Elrohir assures me he is exactly that."

"It will be a great relief to the whole region to be free of those bands of thieving murderers, and likely improve trading, as well," Anteruon said slowly. "’Tis a worthwhile aim, certainly. But the cost may be too high."

Thranduil drew a deep breath. "We must trust in the Valar, and the warriors' skills. Legolas will not risk lives unnecessarily. And the twins were fighting before you were born, my son."

"Aye, I know," Anteruon agreed. "I would choose to be with them, though-"

"I know that well," Thranduil broke in, his tone causing his son to look up sharply. "But I need you here. And I would not give you leave to go, in any circumstance. It is best this way." Raising a hand to silence the impending protest, he continued, "Your duty is to rule the realm in my absence. And manage Galueth, of course."

Groaning in dismay, Anteruon shook his head, all other complaints forgotten. "It will be far easier to rule the realm, Ada, than to manage our princess!"

  


*~*~*~*

  


anor nín – my sun  
el nín – my star  
rohir nín – my knight  
tôren – my brother  
híren – my lord  
Ada, Adar – Papa, Father

  



	18. Chapter 18

“What is amiss, 'Dan?" Legolas asked quietly, lowering himself to sit beside his lover on the dimly lit balcony.

Elladan glanced at the prince, then returned to his perusal of the darkened wood. “Why must anything be amiss?" he countered lightly, his legs swinging idly over the platform’s edge.

“Because you are flirting with a three-level plunge to the forest floor, and hoping - in vain, I might add - that I will go away and leave you to your brooding,” Legolas retorted, smiling wryly. “And neither of those things is normal behavior for you, ‘Dan. I am the one who runs to the balcony for solace.”

“I am only tired, ‘Las,” Elladan sighed, passing a hand impatiently over his eyes.

Legolas studied Elladan closely before speaking. “Tired you may be, but you are as tightly strung as any champion’s bow. Come inside, and have a drink and a hot soak.”

Elladan shook his head slightly. “Nay, not just now. I would sit under the stars for a while longer.”

Legolas took hold of the single blue-dotted ebony braid that trailed down his lover’s back, twisting the silken plait around his hand. “Please, el nín,” he said softly, a note of pleading in his voice, “tell me what troubles you so.”

Turning his silvery gaze on the prince, Elladan remained silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his words took the prince by surprise. “Do you trust me, ‘Las?”

“Aye, of course I do,” Legolas replied immediately. “With my life. You know that, ‘Dan.”

“Then let it be, please?" Elladan said, softening his words with a quick embrace. "It is nothing that concerns you directly, anor nín.”

“_You_ concern me,” Legolas contradicted firmly, “and I...”

“Leave it, ‘Las,” Elrohir broke in gently, dropping to the floor beside his twin. “He is in a mood, nothing more.”

Legolas looked at the elf-knight skeptically. “It is more than a passing mood, I wager. You talk to him, 'Roh. I seem to be of little use this night.”

As he finished speaking, Legolas moved to rise, only to find his wrist gripped tightly. Turning to Elladan questioningly, he found himself pinned by a somber gaze. Elladan loosed his grip and threaded his fingers through Legolas' unbraided hair, pulling his lover into a soft, nearly chaste kiss, breathtaking in its sweetness. “Do not say such a thing,” he chided. “I love you. Always.”

Legolas pulled back, his eyes welling with unexpected tears at the tenderness of the gesture. “I know,” he whispered. “And I love you, el nín. Always.” Rising gracefully, he added, “I will leave you to ‘Roh, nonetheless. Perhaps he can ease your mind.”

The twins sat silently until the door had closed behind Legolas. Lying back, Elrohir stared up at the stars, waiting. When his brother did not speak, he sighed. “Do you wish to unburden yourself, tôren?”

“I do not know how to proceed, rohir nín,” Elladan answered soberly, stretching out beside Elrohir. “I would not cause pain where it can be avoided.” Sighing deeply, he continued, “And I would not lose what we have gained since your injury...”

Elrohir rolled suddenly, laying a hand on his twin’s shoulder. “Surely you are not thinking of bedding Legolas’ brother, ‘Dan.”

When Elladan did not answer at once, Elrohir leaned over further, looking down into his twin's face. The eyes that met his were clouded, and to his horror he found himself consciously barred from his brother’s thoughts. _“Elladan?"_ he demanded hoarsely. “Answer me!”

The elder twin stared silently for a long moment, seeing the growing unease in Elrohir’s face. “I do not know...” he began hesitantly.

Elrohir could no longer contain himself. “Sweet Eru," he exploded, "you do not _know_? Are you insane? Legolas will cut your throat, and Anteruon’s, besides! How can you even ponder such a betrayal?“ When his tirade received no reply, he added roughly, “Say something, tôren.”

Reaching up to tuck one mithril-sparked braid behind his twin’s ear, Elladan broke into a grin. “Do not be an ass, ‘Roh.” His smile fading, he added, “I do not know exactly how to dissuade Anteruon without damaging this fragile peace we have built.”

Elrohir, his eyes wide in exasperation, said, “By rights I should beat you senseless, ‘Dan. To the Last Desert with you and your diplomacy! There is no need to tell him anything. If he approaches you openly, rebuff him. Otherwise, ignore it...we will be leaving in a few days.”

“Aye, but we will presumably return someday, rohir nín,” Elladan pointed out soberly. “I would not leave our relationship with the crown prince of Mirkwood in ruins behind us. Ada is determined to bring him to Imladris for instruction in the healing arts, as well.” Shaking his head slowly, he continued, “This would be better addressed now than later, I think.”

“And what exactly will you say?" the elf-knight challenged in disbelief. “It has come to my attention that you wish to bed me? You flatter me, but I am quite satisfied with your little brother?”

“I do not know what I will say, Elrohir,“ Elladan retorted with a grimace. “Such is the cause of my foul mood. It would already be done, if I but knew what words to use.”

“I daresay ‘Las would have little trouble finding words for him,” Elrohir said darkly. “Words, among other, more painful things.”

“Aye, and that is the other reason I would speak frankly with Anteruon,” Elladan agreed grimly. “I would not be responsible for the consequences should Legolas notice anything untoward. He is not entirely reliable where the crown prince is concerned.”

Elrohir snorted rudely. “Aye, that is a polite way of putting it, I suppose.” Breaking into a grin, he added, “I, on the other hand, am completely reliable where _you _are concerned, tôren. I have but one aim.”

“Which is?" Elladan asked, one eyebrow archinig in amusement.

“Loving you into a whimpering, boneless puddle,” Elrohir answered, lowering his head to rub his brother’s pale cheek with his own, “as often as possible.”

Turning his head into the caress, Elladan brushed a fleeting kiss across Elrohir’s lips. A smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, he asked, “Here, or inside?”

  


*****************

  


Legolas strolled the nearly deserted courtyard idly. Determined to give Elladan space and time to discuss whatever discomfited him, the prince had left his chambers to avoid overhearing a conversation not meant for his ears. There were times, he felt, when even the eerily linked twins needed to _talk_, rather than mindspeak...and he deemed this night to be one of those times. “It is likely the same benefit as talking to myself,” he mused aloud. “The words, no matter how they stumble, help arrange the thoughts.”

“I agree completely, Legolas,” a laughing voice sounded. “Though there are those who might think it strange that you speak aloud to the fountains and the trees.”

Stepping into the main path, Legolas found himself confronted by Elrond, who was smiling broadly. Only slightly abashed, Legolas returned the smile, accompanying it with a small bow. “Híren.” Turning to the rest of the gathering, he smiled a welcome at Anteruon and Glorfindel, breaking into a grin at the sight of Galueth, curled determinedly in Glorfindel’s arms. Thranduil sat beside them, looking vaguely amused. “Ada, it is unusual to see you...” Legolas began, only to be interrupted peremptorily by his youngest sibling.

“Where are El’dan and El’hir?" Galueth demanded accusingly. “Have you misplaced them?”

Chuckling, Legolas shook his head. “Nay, little one, I have not misplaced them. They had things to discuss, and remained behind in my chambers. You will see them in the morning.”

Looking keenly at the prince, Glorfindel asked, “Naught is amiss, I hope?”

Legolas shook his head. “Nay, there is no difficulty. ‘Dan is in something of a mood, that is all.” Oblivious to Anteruon's darkening countenance, he grinned at Glorfindel. "I have no doubt ‘Roh will straighten him out.”

Glorfindel snickered. “Indeed. Elrohir is usually quite effective.”

As Legolas turned to his father, Elrond’s troubled grey eyes met Glorfindel's gaze before focusing on the crown prince. “Come sit with me, Anteruon,” he invited, patting the bench beside himself. “There is still much I would know about your previous training in the healing arts.” His face lightening immediately, Anteruon perched beside Elrond, and was soon deep into details of his time studying with Mirkwood’s healers.

Thranduil eyed his second-born closely. “Are you determined to go forward with this campaign, Legolas?”

“Aye, Ada,” the prince replied at once. “It will be of great benefit to the realm, as well as the human settlements which have fallen prey to these brigands. Our success will make trade safer and thus more profitable.”

“And your failure?” the king asked soberly, shaking his head. “If you fail, my son, what then?”

“We shall not fail, Ada,” Legolas returned with quiet confidence. “There are centuries of experience riding for this cause, against disordered bands of men. We shall not fail.”

“They will succeed, my friend,” Glorfindel agreed, laying a comforting hand on Thranduil’s arm. “Legolas and his guards are highly skilled, and the twins have been riding against just such foes for many centuries.”

“’It is little more dangerous than a raid against orch, Ada,” the prince began. “You never...”

Breaking off suddenly, Legolas stood motionless, his blue-green eyes curiously blank as he focused on the gentle entreaty curling through his thoughts.

_It is late, ‘Las. Are you not coming to bed?_

_We have saved you the best spot, anor nín._

_Aye, we have, though I cannot promise it will stay open unless you hurry._

_And bring a bottle of miruvor, hmm? To accompany our honey butter._

Legolas chuckled. “Pardon me, Ada...híren. I am being recalled, I believe.”

Glorfindel grinned broadly. “And not in language suitable for elfling’s ears, I wager.”

Laughing, Legolas shook his head. “It is easy to see where the twins learned their craft, híren. And I have been instructed to return accompanied by a bottle of miruvor, Ada. If any remains?”

Acutely aware of Anteruon’s rigidly expressionless face, and Elrond’s failing attempt to hold his attention, Glorfindel said quickly, “There are several bottles still in the case, my prince. Come with me.”

Blissfully ignorant of the unease that had settled over the group, Legolas nodded. “Thank you, Glorfindel.” Smiling at the others, he added, "Sleep well.”

As the two elves left in search of miruvor, Anteruon stood suddenly, cutting Elrond off in mid-sentence. “Pardon me, híren, but I am quite weary,” he sighed. “I will seek my bed now.”

“Will you take Galueth to her chambers?" Thranduil prodded gently. “It is long past bedtime for elflings, I fear.”

“Aye ‘Ruon, take me to my chambers, and tell a story,” the princess ordered imperiously. “You tell good stories.”

Seeing the firm hold the crown prince had on himself begin to unravel, Elrond spoke up. “I will take her, if she will allow it. It would be a pleasure to tell stories again.” Smiling at Galueth he went on, “My own younglings are far too old to enjoy their ada’s stories.”

“Will you carry me?" the elfling asked suspiciously.

“I will,” Elrond replied, his eyes twinkling. “On my shoulders, if you like.”

“Aye, I would like that,” Galueth beamed. “I will go with you.”

“I will say goodnight, then,” Anteruon broke in tiredly. “Thank you, Lord Elrond.”

“Sleep well,” Elrond replied quietly.

Anteruon shook his head slightly, a rueful smile flickering across his face as he turned toward his chambers. “Perhaps, but I do not expect to, híren.”

  


*~*~*~*~*

  


el nín - my star  
anor nín - my sun  
rohir nín - my knight  
tôren - my brother  
híren - my lord

  



	19. Chapter 19

Legolas pushed his bedchamber door open gingerly, carefully balancing the unopened bottle of miruvor and the tray of strawberries, honey, and cream that he carried, the fruit offering compliments of Glorfindel and his wicked sense of humor. To his surprise, Elladan sat alone on the bed in naught but sleep pants, his damp hair hanging unbraided to pool on the pillows where he was propped. “Where is ‘Roh?" Legolas asked, placing the laden tray on the bed table.

“He is bathing,” Elladan replied distractedly, his attention focused on the bowl of berries. “Are those for sharing, perchance?”

Legolas smiled, breaking the seal on the cordial bottle. “They are,” he affirmed, pouring three glasses of miruvor. “Glorfindel felt they might improve your mood.” Handing Elladan a drink, he kicked off his boots and dropped to the bed, then chuckled suddenly, pressing a gentle kiss to the deep purple bruise just below his lover’s ear. “But I see Elrohir has already attended to that problem.”

“He tried, aye,” Elladan answered with a dramatic sigh, his silver-grey eyes sparkling with mirth. “But this is _quite_ a foul mood. I am not sure ‘Roh can manage it alone.”

Delighted to find his lover in a cheerful frame of mind, Legolas teased, “It is a good thing Glorfindel sent the berries, then, is it not?”

“It is,” Elladan agreed, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “I shall drown myself in strawberries and miruvor.” Reaching for a piece of fruit, he dipped it first in honey, then in the thick cream, before popping the berry whole into his mouth. He repeated the ritual several times, then met the prince’s intense gaze, one ebony eyebrow arching questioningly. “Will you not have some, ‘Las?”

“It is nearly as satisfying to watch you as to eat them,” Legolas replied with a grin, “but I believe I will have one.” After a moment of appreciative silence, he reached for a second berry. “They are quite as good as when fresh,” he said, swirling the fruit through honey and cream, “and I believe I will have more than one.”

Depositing the dripping berry in his mouth, Legolas found his arm caught in a gentle grip, his hand pulled inexorably toward his companion. Holding the prince's surprised gaze, Elladan extended his tongue and carefully licked away the traces of honey and cream that clung to Legolas' fingers. “I fear that the berries alone will not lighten my mood, anor nín,” Elladan purred, sucking two fingers into his mouth suddenly.

Legolas inhaled sharply, the swirling wetness around his fingers sending an insistent message straight to his groin. “Did you have some particular cure in mind," he asked teasingly, a seductive edge entering his voice, “or shall we improvise?”

“I believe we shall improvise,” Elladan answered, sitting down his empty glass with a wicked smile. Without further explanation he unbelted the prince’s tunic, and began loosing the clasps. Leaning in to nip and nuzzle a sensitive ear, Elladan tugged the garment free, then caught his lover’s mouth in a gentle kiss. “Will you trust me?" he asked, pulling back to meet Legolas' darkening gaze.

Legolas looked intently at Elladan. “I _do _trust you, ‘Dan. I believe we have already had this conversation today.”

Shaking his head slightly, Elladan raised a hand to stroke his lover's cheek. “You mistake my meaning, ‘Las,” he said quietly, threading a golden strand through his fingers. “I am not doubting your basic faith in me. Will you trust me _now_? Absolutely?”

A slight thrill of apprehension ran along the prince’s spine as he pondered the unusual question, but his answer came quickly enough. “I will.”

Elladan gave Legolas a blazing smile, gently forcing him back until he lay flat on the bed, his pale skin glowing against the coppery bed-coverings. “Thank you,” Elladan whispered, his breath ghosting over his lover’s lips a mere instant before he seized them in a pillaging kiss.

Legolas’ mind reeled under the sudden assault. There was no hesitation, no battle for dominance here...the mouth that plundered his own took without asking, bruising his lips, leaving him gasping for air in the brief moment before it descended again. Raising his arms - whether in defense or invitation, he was unsure - Legolas found them quickly pinned to the bed on either side of his head, fingers strong as mithril bands curled around his wrists. Torn between struggling against the restraining hands and arching into the enticing warmth of the body that covered his own, Legolas paid little attention to the whisper-soft touch at his wrists, until a memory came on him unbidden.

A fireplace, furs, Elladan’s wicked grin, and teasing words he had pondered little at the time. _‘Keep your hands down, 'Las, or I will tie them.'_

Unable to lower his arms, Legolas stilled and his eyes flew open, an oath slipping out as he met the midnight dark eyes and smirking grin that hovered just above his face. Glancing up, he fought back a wave of unease. His hands were securely lashed to the headboard...with his own soft leather sash. “What are you doing, ‘Dan?" he asked, struggling to keep his voice steady.

Elladan’s grin widened as he lowered his head to nuzzle and nip at his captive’s throat. “I am improvising, of course,” he purred. “I would have thought that obvious.”

“Release me, Elladan,” Legolas ordered in his official presumptuous voice. “Immediately.”

Chuckling at the haughtily issued command, Elladan retorted, “I think not, Legolas.” As the body beneath him began to twist purposefully, he added, “And if you kick me, anor nín, I will strap your legs.”

A flash of mutinous disbelief showed in the emerald eyes locked with his, and he raised an eyebrow in warning. “Less pleasant for you, I fear, and more difficult for me...but I will certainly do it, rather than be maimed by an ill-placed knee.”

Eyes wide, Legolas stared at his lover in anxiety-tinged amazement, suddenly aware afresh of the near ten centuries which separated them. This was a side of Elladan he had not seen, save in brief, teasing glimpses. Struggling to turn the world upright once more, he managed, “What of ‘Roh?" and a reply quickly slid through both their minds, as the chamber door closed softly.

_‘Roh is going to the balcony to gaze at the stars...and think loudly. Relax, ‘Las. It is but a game.  
And you, tôren...watch yourself. You are distressing our wood- elf._

Elladan moved aside slightly, keeping one leg across his captive. Gently removing the tiny woven braids from Legolas' hair, he looked intently into his lover’s face. “Are you truly distressed?” he asked soberly, all teasing gone from his darkened eyes.

In the face of such serious regard, Legolas found himself stumbling over his words. “I...nay, not distressed...only...anxious, I suppose.”

“I would not have you distressed, or frightened, anor nín,” Elladan said earnestly, stroking his lover's loosened hair soothingly. “There is no pleasure for me in your fear, or your pain. Only in your surrender.”

“I have often surrendered to you with my hands unbound,” Legolas said, a slight note of reproach in his voice.

“Aye, but by your choice,” Elladan pointed out gently. “The bonds leave you with no option. ‘Tis my game, hence all choices belong to me. _You _belong to me.”

“It is difficult...” Legolas began, only to be interrupted by a soft kiss.

“Of course it is difficult,” Elladan agreed, nuzzling an ear wetly. “There would be little point in playing were it easy for you. The struggle is part of the attraction.” Drawing back to search his lover's eyes, he added, “But you must trust me. If you do not, the restraint will be nigh unbearable, and there will be little pleasure for either of us.”

Tugging experimentally at the belt which bound his hands, Legolas found it more than adequately secure, and tied in such a way that it tightened around his wrists with every pull. Forcing back a lingering touch of unease, he smiled slightly, his eyes focused intently on his lover. “I trust you, el nín,” he murmured. “Absolutely.”

Meeting the emerald gaze, Elladan remained silent for a moment, then smiled, unlacing the prince’s leggings and slipping them off. “I am glad,” he said simply, stretching out over the bared form. “Very glad.”

Legolas opened his mouth obediently to an insistent tongue, his head trapped firmly between his own raised arms and his lover’s hands. He rapidly discovered that while resistance garnered him little but a sharp nip in warning, his cautiously encouraging swipes at the invader were welcome, easing the force of the assault momentarily.

Elladan pulled away to press a string of kisses along the prince’s jaw. “Very good,” he breathed, lapping at an ear. “You learn quickly.”

Lowering his head to nip teasingly at his lover's throat, Elladan startled Legolas by biting down hard at the base of his neck, drawing a small spot of blood. Legolas hissed, the need for surrender forgotten as he glared at his tormentor, struggling to pull away. “That _hurt_.”

“Do not speak,” Elladan ordered sternly, licking the offended skin. Legolas continued to glare silently, parting his lips only reluctantly for the exploring tongue that swiped over them.

To the prince’s surprise, the kiss was soft and lingering, and he shivered suddenly as he realized that the element which subtly altered Elladan’s familiar taste was the coppery tang of his own blood. Cautiously extending his tongue, Legolas shuddered again as it was taken into his lover’s mouth, and he bit back a groan as his own mouth was flooded with the strangely erotic flavor.

The small tremors were not lost on Elladan, and he pulled away slightly, his own impossibly dark gaze locking with the dilated emerald eyes of his lover. “Do you see, now?" he probed gently, lowering his head to nip and tug on the prince’s lower lip. "It was for a reason, ‘Las. I would never hurt you for the sake of pain.” Standing to slip out of his sleep pants, Elladan looked down at his bound partner, running a possessive hand over Legolas' smooth skin. “Love you,” he said softly, lowering himself beside the prince.

Legolas watched breathlessly as the dark head dipped to his chest, then hissed with pleasure as one nipple was covered by a warm mouth, teeth and tongue worrying the golden piercing ring, sending sharp bolts of sensation through his body. Unable to press upward with his arms secured as they were, he was forced to remain still as the tantalizing warmth moved from one nipple to the other, suckling and teasing until he panted helplessly.

Leaving the golden rings behind, Elladan deposited a trail of fiercely pink ovals over Legolas' chest and down his stomach, pausing to thrust his tongue wetly into the prince’s navel, smiling with satisfaction at the gasping breath that rewarded his efforts. Continuing his downward trek, he studiously avoided the weeping shaft that lay tight against his lover’s stomach, moving instead between trembling thighs, to press wet kisses over the tender skin where leg and groin meet, then lap teasingly at the smooth sac beneath his lover’s hardened flesh. A series of muffled groans heralded these explorations, and Elladan caught Legolas' hips in a firm grip before moving lower still.

Legolas was unable to force back a keening wail as he was first licked, then breached by the persistent tongue. Giving up all pretense at silence, he struggled against the leather bond, trying to escape both the sash and his lover’s hold on his hips. “Please...’Dan...” he whimpered breathlessly. “Please...”

Retrieving the oil vial from the bed table, Elladan drizzled a thin stream over his own aching erection. Coating his fingers with a generous amount of oil, he dropped his head without warning and engulfed the prince’s arousal. Legolas howled at the sudden sensation as he was suckled expertly, while slick fingers stretched and oiled him. Writhing urgently, he closed his eyes and moaned in anticipation as his legs were lifted to his lover’s shoulders, his sighs ending in a growl as he was filled with a slow steady push. His eyes flickering open, Legolas found himself forehead to forehead with Elladan, as they both gasped for breath. “Loose my hands, el nín,” he whispered, his breath ghosting over his lover’s lips. “I would touch you.”

Elladan reached up and released the leather sash, and was immediately beset by strong hands - sliding lightly over his back, tangling in his tousled hair, and tracing his face before finally settling on his arms, fingers digging pleasantly into his tensed muscles. Pulling back, Elladan thrust forward forcefully, stars flickering before his eyes as he slipped into the slick warmth then retreated again, his rapidly increasing rhythm erratic as his stomach tightened with impending release.

Legolas groaned, arching off the bed as he was stroked from within by his lover’s hard shaft, and from without by the oiled hand that curled tightly around his throbbing length. “Elbereth, ‘Dan...” he panted brokenly, “I...am...oh, gods..._now_...” his final words ending in a shriek as he spilled violently, a spray of liquid heat splashing both sweat-slick bodies.

Elladan threw his head back, a hoarse shout escaping as he rode out out his release. Collapsing onto Legolas' chest, he gently lowered his lover’s shaking legs, then lay still for a long moment before carefully withdrawing and settling to the side with a sigh, pulling Legolas into a snug embrace.

Playing absently with the golden strands that trailed across his chest, Elladan mused, “Another bath would not be out of order, I imagine.” After a long pause, he added, “But I have not the energy to get up and prepare it.”

Legolas snickered, snuggling closer. “Nor have I, I am afraid. In the morning, perhaps?”

As he finished speaking, the bathing chamber door swung open, admitting a grinning Elrohir. “The bath is running,” he announced teasingly. “I assume you can walk to the tub? Or shall I carry you?”

“It would be more fun if you carried me,” Legolas chuckled, stretching luxuriously as he rose to stand beside the bed. Reaching out to pull Elrohir into a gentle kiss, he added, “But I will walk, just for tonight.”

“And I will manage the bed,” Elrohir said with a smirk, as his lovers headed for the bath. “I will not have my honey butter in the midst of such a shambles.”

  


*****************

  


Legolas woke in the grey light of pre-dawn, becoming gradually aware of the sweet smell of strawberries - and the insistent throb of his morning erection. As the twins stirred, both moved closer to the warm body between them, drawing shudders from the prince as skin slid temptingly over skin and teasing mouths nipped and licked at his already ravaged throat. He groaned in appreciation and then chuckled when the press of his lovers' bodies proved them to be in much the same state as himself. Raising his head to give each twin a lingering kiss, Legolas whispered, "There is still the matter of your honey butter, rohir nín. If you are yet hungry?”

"Aye, there is indeed," Elladan murmured, his hand finding the prince’s already weeping arousal, “and it would seem we are all starving.”

"It is a fine time for a quick snack, I believe," Elrohir agreed, pulling Legolas snugly back into the curve of his body. Hissing as Legolas moved against him urgently, he positioned himself and thrust forward, sinking into the silken heat with a groan.

Releasing a wordless moan as he was filled, Legolas raised his arm, allowing Elladan to move back against him, the firm buttocks rubbing teasingly over his arousal. "Oh, yes," he breathed, biting his lip as Elladan pushed back, impaling himself in one steady movement. Hands stroking idly, they lay still, savoring the sensation of closeness, until Legolas could bear it no more and arched suddenly, rocking his hips with heartfelt moan. He thrust deep into the velvety heat before him, then pulled back, taking Elrohir in fully. Cursing softly, he clamped his fingers on Elladan’s hip for support, settling into a steady rhythm.

Elrohir groaned loud and long, reaching across the thrusting hips to close his hand around his twin’s engorged shaft. Elladan let out a sobbing gasp as Elrohir stroked him in time with the now frantic movements of the prince, and his body tightened warningly. "Oh, Valar," he breathed, pressing back toward the pounding thrusts, _"now..."_

Feeling the first spasms caress him, Legolas pushed forward frantically, shouting out his pleasure as he spilled deep inside his lover. Elrohir howled, burying his face in the prince’s neck, as his climax was pulled from him by the pulsing warmth.

Curled together snugly, the trio drifted toward sleep, Elrohir’s final conscious thought slithering through their drowsy minds.

_There is always breakfast, too._

  


*~*~*~*~*

  


anor nín - my sun  
tôren - my brother  
el nín - my star  
rohir nín - my knight

  



	20. Chapter 20

Elrohir, his amazement and unease growing with every passing moment, drank tea in silence as his brother dressed.

Elladan cinched his black leather leggings snugly, topping them not with a casual tunic, but with close-fitting layers of blue and grey, covered by a well-worn black leather jerkin. Pulling on his boots, he hesitated, then slid his boot-knife into its sheath. His garb complete, he moved to the mirror, brushing the heavy black curtain of his hair smooth before braiding it tightly in a single thick plait, the ovals of lapis lazuli woven into the strands glowing in the early morning light.

“Do you go to a friendly meeting or a battle, tôren?" Elrohir asked wryly, his quizzical gaze meeting clouded grey eyes in the mirror.

Elladan frowned, turning to face his brother as he slipped the last bead onto his braid. “I have little stomach for humor this day, ‘Roh.”

“And no jest was intended,” Elrohir retorted, choosing a muffin from the breakfast tray. “Look at yourself. You seem more warrior than diplomat this morning. Do you hope to intimidate him into submission?”

Turning to look in the mirror once more, Elladan shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps. It would be easier than trying to reason with him, I wager,” he said with a rueful grin, reaching for his own tea. “I do not look forward to this, rohir nín.”

“You know I would gladly accompany you,” Elrohir offered, his face serious. “It is my concern, as well, ‘Dan. And Legolas', too, if it comes to that.”

Elladan shook his head firmly, pinning his brother with a steady gaze. “You speak as though Anteruon has done something intentional to offend or harm. That is not the case, and I do not wish to approach him aggressively. He is likely unaware that we have noticed anything amiss. Perhaps there _is _nothing amiss, and we have simply misconstrued his actions.”

Elrohir remained silent, arching one ebony eyebrow skyward in unspoken comment.

Sighing, Elladan continued, “And he saved your life, ‘Roh, probably twice. I would spare us both the discomfort of this, but I fear ‘Las is beginning to consider Anteruon’s behavior odd...and I will not risk _that _confrontation.”

“Aye, it would be a disaster were ‘Las to discern the cause of Anteruon’s erratic response to you,” Elrohir agreed soberly. “Our wood-elf would deem diplomacy inadequate, I fear.”

“He would, indeed,” Elladan replied. Setting down his empty mug, he added reluctantly, “I suppose there is no profit in waiting, though I had hoped Legolas would return. It would be a relief to know you had him under watch while I speak with Anteruon.”

“They have likely finished breakfast,” Elrohir mused, rising from his seat. “He may be sitting in the courtyard with the others.”

Looking out from the landing atop the stairs, Elladan quickly located Legolas. “Stay here, ‘Roh,” he directed. I will tell ’Las you wish to see him.”

“On what pretext, tôren?" Elrohir asked amusedly. “He left us just before breakfast began. What reasonable excuse can you give for my sudden need to see him?”

Elladan grinned broadly, his eyes twinkling for the first time since rising. “I will give no reason. Distracting our wood-elf is your territory today. If you can manage, of course.”

Elrohir chuckled, a smirking grin curling the corners of his mouth. “I daresay I will manage, ‘Dan. Off with you.”

  


*******************

  


Elrond looked up expectantly, raising a hand in invitation as Elladan made his way across the courtyard. If he was surprised by his firstborn’s choice of attire, he hid it well. “Good morning,” he said pleasantly. “We missed the two of you at breakfast, 'Adan. I trust you rested well?”

“We did, Ada,“ Elladan replied. Nodding in greeting to the others, he lowered himself beside Legolas, who looked at the gleaming expanse of leather with some interest, his eyes sparkling.

_Feeling aggressive again this morning, are we el nín?_

Elladan glanced purposefully at the base of the prince’s neck, where a blatant bite mark was ill-concealed by Legolas' mossy green tunic, and the corners of his mouth twitched in amusement.

_Perhaps. Do you mind?_

_I do not._

“How many times must I tell you, Legolas,” Barangolas began teasingly, “’tis...”

“...rude to mindspeak in public,” Glorfindel finished with a grin. “I fear you have chosen a hopeless cause, young one,” he told Barangolas. “We have been trying to break the twins of the habit for two millennia.”

“Unsuccessfully, it would seem,” Thranduil interjected with a smile. “Where is Elrohir this morning?”

“He remained behind in our chambers-” Elladan answered, then amended quickly, “-in Legolas' chambers,” as he followed his father’s glance to the glowering crown prince. Leaning closer to Legolas, he added quietly, “’Roh wants to see you, anor nín.”

“Why? Can he not walk down here to see me?" the prince asked quizzically. Suddenly serious, he probed, “Is he unwell?”

“He is fine,” Elladan answered with a reassuring smile. “He simply wishes to speak with you there.”

_Use your imagination, melethron._

Legolas gave a muffled snort as the teasing voice slid through his mind, the tips of his ears reddening tellingly. “I will take my leave now, Ada,“ he managed, barely suppressing further snickers.

Thranduil nodded graciously and remained silent, though his raised eyebrow spoke volumes. Barangolas chuckled outright. “Are you too warm, tôren?" he teased with a grin. “Your ears are quite pink.”

“That will be enough,” the king said, eyeing his irrepressible youngest son sternly, as Legolas headed back toward his chambers. “Allow your brother some peace, hmm?”

“Aye, by all means,” Anteruon growled under his breath, flushing slightly when Thranduil turned a questioning glare on him.

Elladan rose to his feet suddenly, interrupting the king’s show of displeasure. “I believe I will have a walk in the wood, híren,” he announced politely. Turning to Anteruon, he asked, “Will you join me, my friend? It would be best to go with one who knows the forest well.”

Preparing to refuse, the crown prince caught his father’s eye, and thought better of it. “Aye, if you wish,” he replied, rising to his feet reluctantly. “Let us go.”

As Elladan and Anteruon walked toward the gates, Thranduil turned a troubled glance on Elrond and Glorfindel. “Leave us, Barangolas,” he said quietly. “I wish to speak with Lord Elrond.”

“Aye, híren,” Barangolas returned, obediently standing to go. Suddenly squeezing his father’s shoulder, he added reassuringly, “All will be well, Ada. Elladan will handle it,” before setting off across the courtyard.

The three elves remaining looked after him in amazement, then Glorfindel and Elrond turned questioning glances on the king. Thranduil shrugged helplessly. “I do not know how he does it.” 

  


*****************

  


“How far do you wish to venture?" Anteruon asked, returning the sentry’s wave before turning back to his companion.

“It is of no matter really,” Elladan replied, scanning the wood with interest. “Far enough to grant us some privacy. But still some security.”

Anteruon glanced at Elladan sharply, but made no inquiry. “I know of a place that will serve your needs, I believe,” he said simply, indicating a small trail to the left of the gates. “This way.”

The path twisted and turned upon itself, ending finally in a circular clearing, much like those on the main forest trail, though smaller in size. “This is an old guard tower site,” Anteruon explained briefly. "We are out of sight and hearing of the gates, yet near enough to discourage both orch and spider.”

“I will trust your judgment in that," Elladan replied with a slight smile. Fixing his silver-grey gaze on Anteruon, he continued, “I wish to speak with you, my prince, and that will be easier done without need to watch our backs.”

“We have nothing to speak of that cannot be discussed within the Halls,” Anteruon answered uneasily, his voice taking on a warning edge.

“I believe you know that to be false,” Elladan returned soberly. “I would know what has happened over the past fortnight. You treat me as gwador one moment and foe the next. It seems as though there is once again tension between us...”

“Tension between us?" Anteruon broke in suddenly, his face rigid. “Of course there is tension between us, Elladan.” His eyes glittering savagely, he went on, “You are the personification of all I have ever claimed to despise, and now must consider anew. A Noldor-descended, half-breed, lore-soaked healer, who cannot even content himself with that, but must also challenge the warriors as a battle-mongering crusader. You appear at the gates, and my entire family fawns over you. Ada accepts you without question. Barangolas is delighted. Galueth idolizes you.” Receiving no retort other than the calm gaze of his companion, he stepped closer. “And Legolas...“ Anteruon shook his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “My brother wears both your beads and the marks of your teeth as though they were badges of honor. My warrior-brother, he of the hot temper and quick knife,” he spat, “all but rolls over and begs in the courtyard...”

The crown prince's vitriolic tirade was interrupted by his own howl of pain, as Elladan slammed him against a tree, twisting one arm viciously. “You will not disparage ‘Las in my hearing,” Elladan hissed threateningly, forcing the captive arm higher on Anteruon’s back. “I will accept your insults to myself, if the saying grants you relief, but you _will not _speak against Legolas. Is my meaning clear?”

“Aye,” Anteruon gasped, breathing a sigh of relief as his arm was released. Raising a hand to his abraded jaw he turned, only to find his way barred by Elladan’s closeness. Seemingly against his will, his eyes rose to linger on his companion’s mouth, before being drawn up to meet the steady silver gaze. Dismayed at the understanding evident in Elladan’s eyes, he lashed out again, his voice harsh. “You will hear naught against your current bed-toy? It is admirable, I suppo...”

“Why do you bait me?" Elladan broke in with menacing softness, pinning Anteruon to the tree trunk with one strong forearm. “Is this how you would have it? In anger?

“You presume much, híren,” Anteruon snapped haughtily, struggling against the restraining arm. ”I am not my brother, to bend...”

“Enough!” Elladan growled, his silvery gaze searching his companion’s face for a brief moment before their mouths met in searing kiss. There was no warmth or tenderness in the contact, as teeth bit and tugged savagely, tongues dueling for dominance in a battle born more of rage than of lust. Elladan grabbed a handful of honey-gold hair and pulled roughly, wrenching away from the punishing kiss to wipe at the blood that trickled from the corner of his own mouth. “Answer me,” he demanded hoarsely. “Is this how you would have it?”

Anteruon stared silently for a moment, mesmerized by the stormy grey eyes. Dropping all pretense of misunderstanding, he answered, “If this is the only way to have you, then, aye, I would.”

“You would have me betray him, then?" Elladan asked, releasing his hold on the crown prince.

“Aye. Nay. I do not know,” Anteruon replied tiredly, stepping away. “I would have things as they have always been.”

“Naught has changed, my friend, save your view of yourself,” Elladan said gently, his eyes kind. “Do not mistake curiosity and lust for more lasting emotions. Little more than a moon ago you could not stand the sight of me.”

“I _still_ cannot stand the sight of you at times, peredhel,” Anteruon retorted, but there was no venom in his voice, and he smiled slightly as he spoke. Looking intently at the elder twin, his face becoming serious, he added, “I do not want your pity, Elladan.”

“It is well that you do not, my prince, for you do not have it,” Elladan replied soberly. “Find some brawny elf to indulge yourself with now if you wish, but your future is with your Lady and your elflings, Anteruon.”

One burnished gold eyebrow rose skeptically as the crown prince considered this remark. “You are foresighted, as well, then? I must add that to your list of annoying accomplishments.”

Elladan chuckled. “Foresighted? Not in the manner of Ada or Grandmother, nay. At least not yet. But I am no fool, either.” Even as he finished speaking, a picture came to his mind unbidden...rain falling steadily outside soaring arches, and inside...inside ebony hair flowed like spilled ink over a writhing form crowned with honey-gold...

“Elladan? _Elladan_?" Anteruon repeated insistently. “Are you well?”

Shaking his head to dispel the disturbing images, the elder twin answered, “Aye, I am well. Shall we return to the halls?” Turning to head down the narrow trail, Elladan placed a restraining hand on Anteruon’s shoulder. “If you were other than who you are, I would be sorely tempted to oblige. I _am_ tempted.”

“Thank you,” Anteruon replied, his lips twisting in a wry smile. “Come, before there is talk of a search party.”

  


*******************

  


“Surely you were mistaken,” Elrohir repeated, shaking his head in disbelief. “It was likely a fleeting vision of Glorfindel and Erestor, or perhaps Thranduil...”

“I am not mistaken,” Elladan insisted soberly. “It was not Glorfindel, nor Thranduil. It was Anteruon. In Imladris, in the family chambers, with a raven-haired lover. A _male_ lover.” Eyeing his twin intently, he continued slowly, “And there is another thing I am sure of, tôren.”

As the silence lengthened, Elrohir prodded impatiently, “And that would be what, ‘Dan?”

“It was not me, ‘Roh,” Elladan replied quietly, touching his brother’s arm as he saw understanding dawn. “It was not _me_.”

  


*~*~*~*~*

  


el nín - my star  
anor nín - my sun  
rohir nín - my knight  
tôren - my brother  
híren - my lord  
Ada, Adar - Papa, Father  
melethron - lover  
gwador - sworn brother

  



	21. Chapter 21

Elrond paced Thranduil's study restlessly, his gaze wandering repeatedly toward the open door. Turning to retrace his steps yet again, he found his way barred by a towering figure.

“Sit down,” Glorfindel said firmly, urging Elrond toward a large chair. “You will wear out your legs, as well as Thranduil’s floor-cloth. Grant them a few final moments of privacy. They will be down when they are ready.”

“I know,” Elrond replied with a half-hearted smile. “It would be thought that I might be accustomed to such partings by now, but...”

“...but it is never any easier, no matter that you have done the same many times before,” Thranduil finished with a sigh. “I know, my friend. I know. And the waiting is nearly as stressful as the parting, or so it seems to me.”

“It is indeed,” Glorfindel agreed soberly. “For the twins and Legolas, also, I wager.” Focusing on the woodland king, he added, “What strength of warriors did they finally agree to muster?”

“Less than a score," Thranduil answered unhappily. “I would have them take twice that, but we cannot leave the borders poorly guarded at any time, least of all while I am away.” Shrugging ruefully he continued, “And Legolas feels a larger guard would do naught but give the enemy more warning.”

“He is likely right,” Elrond said thoughtfully. “These packs of thugs are rarely large, and surprise serves better than number to defeat them.” Chuckling softly, he amended, “At least thus says the wisdom of my sons...as well as my captain, eh, Glorfindel?”

“Aye, wisdom does agree, híren,” Glorfindel replied with a smile, “and your captain, in doing his duty, must ask after your own travel preparations. We should leave with the dawn tomorrow, I fear. Our soldiers can move at a few hours’ notice.”

Elrond nodded. “It is time we were getting back to the valley. I am ready, save a bit of last-minute packing.” Turning his attention to the Mirkwood king, he asked, “What of you, Thranduil? Are you game for the journey?”

“I have little taste for travel, as you well know, Elrond,” Thranduil retorted wryly. “Legolas inherited _that _love from his naneth, I suppose.” Smiling at Glorfindel, he went on, “Yet there is much waiting at the end of _this_ trek that I have long missed. Aye, I am prepared.”

  


**************

  


Elladan came from the bathing chamber in a puff of steam, a towel tied loosely around his hips. Noting the broad grins gracing the faces of his lovers, he raised an eyebrow in silent interrogation.

“Water creature,” Elrohir snorted, shaking his head in amusement. “I share my soul with a water creature.”

“Aye, but he _is_ quite fetching in a towel,” Legolas teased, quoting the elf-knight’s own words from a well-remembered conversation in Imladris. “And even more fetching without it,” he added as the towel dropped to the floor.

“Hot water is not to be sneezed at,” Elladan said sternly, his eyes twinkling in repute of his tone. Tugging up his worn leather leggings, he tied them snugly before continuing. “It will be a long wait before we have the chance to soak again, I wager.”

“Aye, it will be a long wait before we have a chance to soak...among other things,” Legolas grumbled so darkly that both twins burst into laughter.

“Shall we call off the pursuit, then, anor nín, that your bed-calendar might remain full?” Elladan chuckled, pulling his scowling lover back into a snug embrace.

“Do not tempt me,” Legolas retorted good-naturedly, a grin spreading across his face. “I might be persuaded.”

Turning to face Elladan, Legolas looked searchingly into his lover's sparkling grey eyes. “’Tis alright now, ‘Dan?" he asked, pushing back a strand of raven-dark hair. “_You_ are alright now? I would not have you go on such a mission distracted by worry or regret.”

“Aye, ‘tis alright now,” Elladan agreed with a smile. “There is no longer worry, ‘Las, and there never was regret.”

“Good,” Legolas said simply, pressing a lingering kiss to his lover’s mouth before pulling away with a sigh. “The morning grows no younger, I am afraid. We had best be getting on.”

As the twins pulled on their preferred battle-garb of blue, grey and black, braiding their hair in ebony ropes sparked with their signature beads, Legolas arrayed himself in the dark greens and rusty brown favored by the woodland warriors. Reaching up to begin his woven braids, the prince was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“I will do it,” Elrohir offered, already separating the heavy golden mass into sections. With a skill born of many centuries practice, the prince’s hair was woven into a single heavy braid, the strands dotted with beads of mithril and blue. “There,” the elf-knight nodded smugly. “Now you are perfect.”

“Nearly so,” Elladan agreed, offering no further explanation as he lifted heavy leather pads to his shoulders, raising his arms to allow Elrohir to tighten the buckles securely, then lifting his chin as his brother fitted the high collar of stiffened black leather that completed the armor.

Watching as the warriors he had so long known and fought beside appeared in full guise, Legolas found himself frowning in concentration. Something was not quite right...something was missing...

Elrohir donned his own protective gear in turn, moving his arms experimentally to be sure the pads were well-placed and secure, before turning to help his twin secure the prince’s scuffed brown leather armor. The job done to his satisfaction, Elrohir turned expectantly toward his brother.

Dipping his thumb in the tiny box he cradled in one hand, Elladan drew a single stroke of black under each of the elf- knight’s eyes, following the sharp rise of his cheekbones. Handing over the earthen box of kohl, the elder twin then stood as he was marked in turn.

Legolas smiled ruefully. Of course...the kohl stripes completed the familiar picture. The markings, emphasizing the silvery gleam of the twins' eyes and the steep slope of their cheekbones, had been a part of their battle-dress for as long as he could remember.

Identical grey gazes met and held for a long moment, then Elrohir solemnly handed the container of silken black powder back to his brother. Moving to stand before Legolas, Elladan met his lover's eyes soberly, then firmly striped the prince's angular cheekbones with two sure strokes. Smiling slightly at Legolas’ astonishment, he said, “_Now _you are perfect.”

  


*************

  


“Here they come,” Barangolas announced, turning expectantly toward the faint squeak of leather that heralded the trio’s descent to the courtyard.

Following the youngest prince’s gaze, the assembled elves watched bemused as the warriors approached, greeting the three with expressions ranging from broad grins to wordlessly raised eyebrows. Galueth, as was her wont, cut directly to the heart of the matter. “Your face is dirty, ‘Golas,” she announced without preamble, drawing chuckles from all present.

“So it is, little one,” Glorfindel agreed with a grin. “But does it not make Legolas look fierce? As though he could eat an orch raw, perhaps?”

"Elves do not eat orch," Galueth giggled, wrapping her arms around her brother. Suddenly sober, she asked, “Must you leave, ‘Golas?”

“Aye, I am afraid so,” Legolas answered gently, kneeling to embrace his sister. “I will return as soon as I may.”

Frowning slightly, the princess demanded, “Can you not leave me El’dan? Or El’hir? I would watch him closely.”

Legolas forced back a chuckle at the thought of either of his lovers supervised by the impulsive elfling. “Nay, I have need of the twins on this trip. They will come back to see you. Now say farewell, little one. We must be going soon.”

“Farewell, El’dan...El’hir,” Galueth chimed obediently, hugging each twin in turn. “Farewell, ‘Golas.”

Thranduil and Elrond stood apart, watching with heavy hearts as good-byes and hopeful wishes were exchanged. Pride warred with worry as they waited, smiling wryly when their eyes met and shared emotions were recognized. Laying a hand comfortingly on the king’s shoulder, Elrond turned his gaze back to the others.

“Do not be too long, tôren,” Barangolas said, embracing Legolas tightly. “And I think you look quite fine.” he added, his green eyes sparkling as he moved to bid the twins farewell. “I will gather the raiding party,” he announced when his good-byes were completed, reluctantly heading for the stable.

“Be safe, young ones,” Glorfindel ordered, drawing each of the trio into a warrior’s embrace. Clasping the younger twin’s forearms, he asked quietly, “Who leads, Elrohir?”

“’Las,” the elf-knight answered, keeping his own voice low. “It is his company, after all. But he is not too proud to accept advice, from whoever may have it to give.”

“That is well, then,“ Glorfindel said with relief. His irrepressible grin breaking through, he added, “Good hunting.”

To everyone’s surprise, including his own, Anteruon embraced his brother tightly in farewell. “Good luck, little brother,” he said quietly. “Be careful.”

“I will, tôren,” Legolas responded, touched by the rare display of affection. “You, as well. You are taking care of Galueth and Barangolas, yes?” he continued with a smile. “That is a far bigger job than caring for the realm.”

“That is true,” Anteruon chuckled, moving to catch Elrohir’s arm in a warrior’s clasp. “Farewell, my friend.”

“Farewell,” the elf-knight returned, squeezing Anteruon’s shoulder. “Do not worry overmuch.”

Facing Elladan, Anteruon arched one eyebrow wryly. “Farewell, peredhel,” he said, clasping the elder twin’s arm. “Take care of them. Of him.”

“I will, wood-elf,” Elladan replied, only the faintest hint of a twinkle visible in his eyes as he gripped Anteruon's shoulder before turning to move toward his father and the king.

“Elladan?” the crown prince said suddenly, hesitating as the elder twin swung around, one ebony eyebrow lifted in question. "You will always find a welcome here."

“Thank you, Anteruon,” Elladan replied with a smile. “And you are always welcome in the valley, gwador.”

Legolas gaped in surprise at the endearment, but had little time to ponder its meaning before his attention was claimed by his father. Shaking his head ruefully, Thranduil studied the kohl-marked face of his son, then reached out to touch the bead-flecked single braid. “A golden-haired peredhel,” he chuckled, “It is a rare sight, indeed.”

“Does it displease you, Ada?” Legolas asked uneasily, his gaze fixed on his father’s face.

“Nay, it does not displease me, young one,” the king answered with a smile, embracing Legolas tightly. Stepping back, Thranduil retained a grip on his son’s forearms. “I love you, Legolas. Elbereth’s protection.”

“And I love you, Ada,” Legolas returned. “Do not worry. We will be well.”

Embracing the twins in turn, Thranduil placed a hand on each leather-clad chest. “Elbereth’s protection, young ones,” he said soberly. “Mirkwood is grateful for your service.”

“And we are grateful for your acceptance, híren,” Elrohir replied, “so both debts may be considered paid.”

“We are even then,” Thranduil agreed, his eyes twinkling. “That is well.” Turning to the elder twin, he smiled faintly. “Thank you, Elladan. I neither know nor wish to know what occurred. But you have my gratitude.”

Inclining his head wordlessly, Elladan smiled before moving to stand near his own father, who was speaking earnestly with Legolas. “Have you orders to keep us on a tight rein, ‘Las?" Elladan teased.

“He is well aware of our failings, Ada,” Elrohir joked as he joined them. “It is not necessary to list them.”

Raising one expressive eyebrow, Elrond retorted, “I daresay that is true, 'Rohir.” Glancing at Elladan, he said, “And though you often need a tight rein, I was in truth reminding the prince that the two of you are not only very skilled, you are also very dear to me. I would see you all return intact.”

“I know that, Ada,” Elladan replied, his face serious. “I love you. I jest only to ease the strain of parting.”

“And I am well aware of _that_,” Elrond said, pulling his eldest into a snug embrace. “I love you, ‘Adan. Be safe. Valar‘s grace to you.” Gathering the elf-knight in a fierce hug, Elrond repeated his ritual farewell. “I love you, ‘Rohir. Be safe. Valar‘s grace to you.”

“I love you, Ada,” Elrohir said with a smile, “and Elbereth‘s protection to you, also. It is a long journey to Imladris. Will you leave tomorrow?”

“Aye, with the dawn, or so Glorfindel insists,” Elrond sighed, his face so pained that all three of the younger elves grinned broadly.

A whistle from the gate drew Legolas’ attention to the gathered company of warriors, where Glorfindel could be seen, apparently deep in conversation with three riderless horses. “’Dan...’ Roh...they are ready,” the prince pointed out, indicating the mounted guard. Grinning at the sight of the legendary Imladrian captain chatting with several obviously fascinated stallions, he added, “I fear Glorfindel is giving Ornfaer and your friends some last-minute instruction.”

“I do not doubt it,” Elladan snickered as they walked toward the gates, strapping on assorted swords, knives, and quivers. “He has my Mithrengil - and Alagos - under his thumb completely.”

“Aye, and I would have this one, too, with a few days effort,” Glorfindel broke in with a chuckle as Ornfaer rubbed against his shoulder. “He is a fine animal, Legolas.” Giving each horse a final pat as the trio mounted, he nodded. “They will guard you well. Farewell, my friends.”

“Farewell, Glorfindel,” the three chorused. “Look after Ada, híren,” Legolas added quietly.

“You have my word,” Glorfindel promised, stepping back to stand beside Thranduil and Elrond.

“Farewell,” Elrond said, looking at each of the three intently. “Send word as you can.”

“Aye, indeed,” Thranduil agreed. “Do not be long, younglings. Farewell.”

Farewell, híren,“ the trio chorused, then resolutely turned their mounts toward the forest path.

Raising a hand in ritual salute to his warriors, Thranduil drew a deep breath, then uttered the blessing which set them on their way. “The Valar protect you all.”

  


***************

  


Leading the way up the narrow path, Legolas paused where the trail began to widen, allowing the company to reform and the twins to move up beside him.

“Where to first, ‘Las?" Elrohir asked curiously. “To Esgaroth for news? Or shall we make a broad sweep?”

“Not to Esgaroth, yet, ‘Roh,” Legolas replied thoughtfully. “I would have a look around before we reveal ourselves to the humans. South, I think. We will ride toward the Old Forest Road. There has been much villainy in that region of the Wood for many years.”

Legolas dropped back for a moment to inform his captain of their destination, then rejoined Elladan and Elrohir. So closely was he watching for Tiriadon’s sign that the raised arm was acknowledged even before it was fully extended. Legolas turned to the twins, a feral smile spreading across his face. “Come along,” he said, his eyes sparkling wickedly. “It is a fine day for hunting.”

  


*~*~*~*~*

  


Ornfaer - tree-spirit (Legolas’ horse)  
Mithrengil - grey-star (Elladan’s horse)  
Alagos - storm of wind (Elrohir’s horse)

anor nín - my sun  
tôren - my brother  
gwador - sworn brother  
híren - my lord(s)

  



End file.
